Lesson 101: Teaching Malfoy some Humanity!
by lezonne
Summary: Students have been called back to Hogwarts to complete their education, but when the new potions professor refuses to watch a study hall class, Hermione begrudgingly accepts the job But Malfoy's back to be a pain, posing the same cocky, arrogant attitude he's always had. And with the war out of the way, Hermione decides its time to cut Malfoy's arrogance down a few notches 7 repost
1. My Chair, My Room

**A/n: **Story I'm trying out. I'm not really sure where it will go, if anywhere, but I wanted to get it up and out there to test. So go ahead and read this strange creation, and we'll see how it's taken :D Leave a review if you please so I know what people are thinking! Thanks to my newfound and volunteer beta **divina126**!

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**Lesson 101: Teaching Malfoy some Humanity!**

**Chapter 1: My chair, my room. **

Staring at the classroom door, Hermione never felt so unnerved. Accepting this job was possibly one of the most foolish things she had ever done! Why couldn't she just take things slowly and remain as a student full time?

She was seventeen now, nearly eighteen, with her birthday only a few days away. She always had it at the start of term, aging before her friends did. It didn't necessarily bother her, but this year it did remind her of her plans back when she was ten to already be attending college by now. Instead, she was back at Hogwarts completing her eighth year.

Eighths years; there were more of them than she would've thought. Returning and taking her NEWTS after the war was always her plan, but she never realized it was the plan for everyone. All the former students received a letter from the ancient school in July, declaring that they were to return for the new year in the fall. The students who would've been seventh years last year were sent a different set of letters, explaining that they were all required to return and complete their education; it was among the Ministry's standards now, and no one was an exemption to the rule. Hermione was very aware of how unhappy this made the majority of the people her age; Harry and Ron were perfect examples of that disdain.

Yet her position was different from the other students. With numerous teachers killed in the Battle of Hogwarts, there were many positions open. And with so very many students returning who would much rather just move on and start their lives, Headmistress McGonagall was concerned that grades would drop and deteriorate. That's where Hermione's position was different from all the other students in her year.

The Headmistress wanted to instate a study hall into each and every students schedule to make sure that work was done. There were teachers to monitor the situations, but as the schedules began to appear McGonagall realized that the new Head of Slytherin refused to be a study hall teacher at all, far too comfortable with his new potions job. In Hermione's opinion, that was the only reason he even took the job at the school. The new Gryffindor head was pleasant, at least from her few scarce encounters with the man.

And that brought Hermione to her situation today. About Mid-July she received a letter while visiting the Weasleys and Harry, announcing that McGonagall requested a private audience with her at a café in Diagon Alley only a few days later. Going alone, she met with her former head of house, ignoring the odd looks a few strangers sent their way as she took her seat. It didn't take long for their conversation to turn to the matter at hand.

"_Have you ever thought of being a teacher?" the elder woman asked the brunette, catching her off guard as she took a large sip of her drink. _

"_A teacher? Well, I don't know. My ambitions have changed since the war; I could never be a Healer now after everything I saw during that time. I'm planning to take a job offer in the Department of Magical Creatures and Regulations at the Ministry once this year ends. I've never considered being a teacher though. I'm sure it's a great job Headmistress, but I'm not sure it would be for me."_

_The woman nodded, apparently thinking as she chewed and swallowed her food. "Do you plan to go to college while working at the Ministry?"_

"_Yes, before perhaps as well. I would really love to get into spell production. I know you have to be licensed to legally create new spells, but it's something that's always interested me. There are so many things we don't know yet that could be helped, fixed or prevented if we had the right spells, and it's something that could be interesting. Perhaps I would do it alongside my Ministry job."_

"_Ambitious," the woman said, smiling at her former student, "Just as I always knew you would be."_

_Nodding, Hermione waited for her to continue, but McGonagall seemed conflicted about what to say once, and for several minutes the conversation died there. At one point, she cleared her throat and drew her attention again. "Headmistress?"_

"_Hmm?"_

"_What is the real reason you requested my presence specifically today," the girl asked, leaning back in her seat. She was already stirring the contents of their conversation around in her head, mulling it over again and again. She was beginning to get an idea._

_Sighing, Minerva sat back as well, replacing her utensil onto the napkin at the side of her plate. "There is a problem at the school with scheduling the teachers dear. Our new potions professor likes to play by his own rules. He does not… adapt to the schedule well outside of his single class."_

"_What else would there be?" she asked, confused. "Wouldn't he only be teaching potions, or would he have another subject as well?"_

"_After the war, Hermione, our staff shrank quite a bit. I've hired multiple new teachers for the new year, some of which I like better than the others. Some of them are very kind and willing to adapt to the changes the curriculum schools all over Britain are facing, and others would rather stick to what they have always known over the years."_

"_What do you mean?"_

"_Some subjects are being refined, and others are being dropped entirely. I will only explain all this to you if you accept my offer Hermione, so let me get to my point before you ask another question dear. We are adding a few, varied, new courses as well, and one required extra class to every single student there. For the fourth through sixth years, this will mean that their seventh year schedule will be fuller than it has been in years past. However, each child at the school must have a study hall class, especially the eighth years."_

_Hermione frowned, having never expected to hear that. Students free periods had always been their study hall. "There will be no more free periods?"_

"_Of course there will be," she said, shaking her head, "But only if it fits into a student's schedule. If they only have one open slot and they intend to not fill it with a class, then it will be used as a study hall. The Ministry is instating this rule because they hope that it will help keep students grades up, but it won't matter so long as a student still does no work. Study hall teachers really only advise, they don't actually teach anything."_

"_I see," Hermione said, tapping her chin as pieces of the puzzle slipped into place, yet gaps still remained. "And you wish for me to…"_

"_I wanted to know if you would consider a position as a study hall teacher," she said, looking the girl dead in the eye. "It would only need you for a period or two, and although we both now know that teaching isn't a goal for you, it can be a gateway to opportunities. I know that you already have numerous school offers awaiting your graduation, but perhaps take this into perspective. Among your other amazing traits and high IQ, you'll be adding a touch of experience with real world situations to your list of qualities."_

_The younger girl restrained saying that she already had several real world traits, what with hunting for Horcruxes and saving the world. "Let me guess then. You want me to be watching a class full of Slytherins? I don't think that will go over well."_

"_They would be fourth year and under," McGonagall said, fingering the lip of her glass. "The study hall classes probably won't be mixed-house, but it's not set in stone yet. The potions professor was reluctant, and problematic, with agreeing to aid with the fifth through eighth year students, but I recall that you wanted a nearly full schedule, so I know you can't be available for four periods on top of everything else. My offer to you though is to take on a class or two of the younger years and not only monitor them, but perhaps inspire them to try to do well in school."_

"_I'm sorry," Hermione said suddenly, shaking her head, "But that sounds like it won't work. Slytherins only look up to other Slytherins; never someone from another house. I'm sorry Headmistress, but if you want them to be inspired, you would need a student from Slytherin to get that kind of reaction."_

_The woman sighed. "I know this Hermione, but I'm trying to promote inter-house unity. The Ministry is unusually uncomfortable with how segregated the houses at the school can be, and are concerned that its bad for developing adults, or some other bollocks like that. I'm supposed to work this year to begin breaking down the walls between houses, especially Gryffindor and Slytherin. It is not a task I am looking forward to by any means, but it is something I need to do. I think it will be exceptionally difficult to do and one of the most tiresome ideas ever thought up, but students have to remember that a house can represent the traits highlighted within yourself, and not necessarily who your friends can be."_

_She looked away, biting her lower lip. Well, what was she supposed to say to this? This wasn't how she imagined this meeting going at all._

"_Take the rest of July to think it over Hermione. Owl me the first week of August with your decision. This doesn't have to be decided and set in stone at this exact moment. It's merely an offer. My teacher schedule won't have to be finalized until the second week of August."_

"_Is anyone else being offered this?" she asked, honest curiosity peeking through. _

"_No. Although there are a few exceptional students in eighth year coming back to the school whose grades might've put them in a similar position, I won't be using them. And I have my reasons for several of them."_

_Despite herself, Hermione couldn't help thinking that she was talking about a Slytherin at that comment._

So the first week of August came around, and she accepted the position, not necessarily because she wanted to, but because McGonagall was having such a difficult time filling the role. Hermione didn't see why the Ministry pushed it so much, considering that more students were liable to skip that period than anything else.

Harry and Ron didn't know about the job offer yet at all. She preferred to wait until after the first day of school to see whether or not she could stand sitting in a classroom filled with a bunch of angry, prejudiced Slytherin children for her first and sixth classes. She would reveal the "big secret" at lunch today if she needed to.

And what a way to start every day, by dealing with a bunch of underclassmen that would absolutely hate her. She couldn't recall why she signed herself up for that as she stood outside the door.

_Just walk in. It's not like there's anything for them to actually do during this class today anyway. Listen to some music on your headphones or something._

Thrusting the door open, she stalled in her tracks. Sitting there at the desk she was supposed to use for this class, sat none other than Draco Malfoy, leering at a few of the Slytherins already sitting in there. This wasn't something she wanted to handle so very early in the morning on the _first_ day of school.

He turned towards the door and lifted an eyebrow. "Lost are we, Granger?"

He hadn't changed much since the war. She remembered seeing his pale blonde head occasionally bobbing around the battlefield, every once in a while catching a glimpse of his terrified face as they ran around, passing the fallen.

She remembered facing him, dueling him, beating him. It was something she never shared with another soul; the instance during the war when she went head-on against Malfoy. She got the feeling he hadn't told anyone either.

Determined to take her seat from the git, she walked with a purpose to the desk and slammed her books down on it, lifting an eyebrow at him. "I believe you're in my seat."

"I believe your ridiculous," he replied, sneering. "This is a class for Slytherin, you don't belong here."

Deciding to just fess up and hopefully get him up and off of her chair, Hermione pulled out a piece of paper that was tucked away inside the cover of a book, planting it flat down on the desk in front of him, pointing at the top line. "I'm the teacher in this class Malfoy; get out of my chair."

His eyes grew a degree, reading the scripted text just beneath her nail. "It's a typo Granger; try again."

She rolled her eyes, running her finger down to the sixth line, which again listed her as a teacher for the study hall in this room. "Are you sure? They wouldn't print that same mistake twice, while changing the time, class number, and age."

His head snapped up to hers, before he tore the paper away from her and gave it a further look-see. "Bloody hell, is everyone batty?"

"No, they're just looking for teachers," she replied, huffing as she snatched the paper away from him. She was very aware of the few Slytherin underclassmen watching them talk as though a war had never passed, but she wasn't going to pay them any mind. Not right now anyway. "Now will you please remove your bum from my seat? I'm sure you have somewhere to be, and I have no intention of standing here throughout this first class."

Draco's eyes narrowed. "You don't order me around, Mudblood."

Her cheeks colored at that, and she could hear the children in the room whispering at his comment. "Enough!" she snapped, facing the limited class, glad that everyone wasn't there just then. "You will not use that word in my class, understood?"

No one answered her, not a single student. All eyes had drifted to the blonde sitting beside her, and she realized that they were looking to see what _he_ had to say on the matter. How incredibly rude!

"Good luck with that Granger," he laughed, getting up off the seat. Leaning in a bit towards her face, he sneered. "They're not going to listen to you; they aren't first years. They're third years, and they might know who you are, but they _respect_ who I am. No one in this class is going to take you seriously."

"Twenty points from Slytherin," she snapped, crossing her arms, "For using such language in my class. And a detention Malfoy. You've already forgotten that I'm a teacher after just minutes of speaking; with the title comes the power. I can take points away with a bat of my eye _and_ I can put you in detention if I see fit."

"You think I'm actually going to listen to this rubbish!?" he spat, stepping closer but she didn't step back, and only raised an eyebrow at him. "You don't have any fucking power over me!"

"I'm still a teacher, be it a study hall teacher or not," she replied, grinning as he glared at her. "I can still serve out detentions."

"Fuck off."

"You're so mature Malfoy," she said, sliding past him into her chair. He wiggled away as she brushed against him, and it only caused her to laugh. "Ha! You don't have to be so scared of me you know."

"I'm not scared!" he spat, eyeing the room, as though daring them to even think otherwise. "I'm disgusted."

"Call it what you want," she replied, resting her arms behind her head. "I call it fear." He opened his mouth to say something, but the first bell rang and cut him off, and Hermione smiled at the perturbed look on his face that followed. "Best run off; you'll be late for class."

"This isn't over Granger; you don't just get to boss me around because some lunatic actually gave you a job. They must be quite stupid to do such a thing," he spat, turning to leave the room. He flipped her off on the way out, and she sat forward in her chair, calling out after him.

"You can meet Filch tonight at curfew to do some cleaning! I'm sure there are plenty of places to clean after the war and a summer of this place being closed!"

He growled, and she grinned, making a mental note to tell Filch about his new person to torment. She had no intention of actually making him serve a detention with her, not when she knew that it meant that she would have to spend more time with him than she already did. Turning back to the class, she straightened herself out as a few more students filed in, eyeing her.

The moment of her childish banter was over now, and she needed to compose herself for class. She was supposed to act mature and responsible, yet here she was having an argument with Malfoy in front of the underclassmen. Why he was in there to begin with escaped her, but in all honesty she didn't care. So long as he didn't return, she wasn't going to bother herself with it.

When the entire class had filed in, she could hear the whispers and gossip revolving around her dispute with Malfoy not ten minutes before. Standing and addressing the class, she caught everyone's attention, as well as their sneers.

"Class, my name is Hermione Granger. I'm a student here, and I'm also standing in the place of a study hall teacher for you this period. Now, about that discussion I had with Malfoy a few minutes ago…"

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**A/n:** Hi there readers! I hope you like the idea :) Let me know what you're thinking in a comment, because this is a bit different for me. The idea has been in my head for a while now, and I finally decided to do something with it and post a story :)

If this continues it will have varied chapter lengths; every other chapter will be between 5-6,000 words, and the chapters between the long ones will be shorter, like 3,000. That way the story isn't overpowering to read :D


	2. Bring on the Teachers!

**A/n:** Here's chapter 2! Thanks to my beta **divina126**!

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**Chapter 2: Bring on the Teachers!**

By third hour, the entire school seemed to know that Hermione was standing in as a study hall teacher. Everyone stared at her when she walked by, and although she liked to think that it was due to her Head Girl badge, she knew it wasn't true. Second hour no one had much to say, but the moment third hit she found herself completely swamped by eyes and questions.

It didn't help either that she had second period with Malfoy. When he blurted out that a "Gryffindor was teaching her silly ways to Slytherin underclassmen", well their Arithmancy class ended up in an uproar. She had over a dozen questions thrown her way all at once, while the blonde smirked at her from his side of the room. He was having too much fun making her life hell, and she supposed that it was because of her stunt earlier deducting house points.

To make matters worse, her class before lunch was also shared with the prat- transfiguration. At least she had class with Harry and Ron this period.

"Why didn't you tell us you were taking a teaching job?" Ron asked as the three sat down for class. "You must get a ton of free classes!"

"Ron, that's not why I took the opportunity!" she scolded, glaring at him. "The Headmistress couldn't find anyone to cover the classes, and offered them to me since I'm so far ahead that I could graduate already."

"Way to rub it in," Harry said playfully. "But why are you watching a bunch of Slytherin brats? Wouldn't it make more sense to have you working with Gryffindor students?"

"It would, but that's why she asked me to begin with. Apparently the potions teacher isn't too lenient, and doesn't like to do anything he doesn't want to. He refused to do study halls, and then only came down to watching some of them. I have another study hall class to watch sixth hour."

Ron made a face. "That sounds bloody awful. At least they're the underclassmen, right?"

"Yes," she agreed, sounding relieved. "McGonagall didn't make me watch anyone above third year, thank Merlin. They're all young, but they are all stuck up snobs. That entire first class wanted to do nothing but discuss how well Malfoy bested me in our argument earlier, and it didn't help that they didn't even have homework yet."

"Malfoy was there?" the ginger asked, glancing across the room at the blonde, sitting within a circle of prejudiced friends on the Slytherin side of the room. "He has to start school over?"

Hermione laughed. "No Ron, he wasn't in the class, he was just there when I arrived. I don't know why he was there to begin with, but we got into an argument like usual, and I ended up deducting a bunch of points from him. That didn't help matters much either."

Ron wiggled his eyebrows. "Ah, I see, using that beautiful Head Girl status already to make the prat's life hard?"

"No, my teacher status. It beats my Head Girl benefits by far, though I still have to use the Head dorm."

"You mean those awful split dorms that all the Heads' always complain about? I hear you never get any privacy."

"I know," she said, looking worried. "McGonagall is showing them to us after dinner, apparently they had to relocate them since the war destroyed the old ones. I guess they are in a new place this year."

"Well, maybe it'll be better."

She rolled her eyes. "Yeah, maybe, or maybe he'll kill me in my sleep."

"Don't joke about that Hermione," Ron said, his expression darkening. "Not when it's an actual possibility."

"Oh, don't be that concerned Ron. It was a joke. After all, he wouldn't kill me in the dorm room. That's far too obvious. He'd wait until some other time."

"Yes, that makes everything better," the ginger muttered, shaking his head at her as the teacher at the front of the room cleared her throat. There was a new teacher now, taking McGonagall's old job. Hermione poked Harry in the shoulder, drawing his attention away from Hannah in front of him to pay attention to the new lesson they were about to learn on the first day of school.

"Hello class, my name is Miss Holladay. Today we will be studying…"

* * *

"She's so pretty," the ginger said, causing Hermione to crinkle her nose. She really couldn't believe she was hearing this.

"Yeah, and her hair was so gorgeous," Harry added, earning the same disgusted look from Ginny.

"Oh, shut up you two! This is just as bad as the Lockhart incident from second year!" Hermione shook her head, opening a book. Leave it to a young, big-breasted teacher to captivate every teenager boy's attention in the room, and still have none of them know what she is trying to teach. She supposed that maybe if the woman wore a decently cut blouse that the class may have gone a bit better.

"This is nothing like Lockhart!" Ron said, sounding offended. "She's much better."

"You only say that because she's a female," the brunette muttered, burying her head into a book. Hopefully if she looked busy no one would come around and try to talk to her about her new position. She didn't need any more jealous peers, irritated Slytherins, or annoying gossipers questioning her on the matter. She simply wanted to eat her food in peace.

"You liked her though, didn't you Hermione?" Harry asked, looking at her hopefully.

"She's quite smart," the girl agreed, "But her knowledge might be conveyed better to the thick-minded teenage boys in that room if she wore a modest cut shirt high enough to hide her bosoms, and then maybe one of you knuckleheads would've known how to respond when she asked us questions at the end. Merlin help us, every one of you men had no idea what she was talking about when she called upon you."

"I thought the lesson was splendid!" Harry argued, his cheeks tingeing red at Hermione's implication as his girlfriend peered at him, interest sparkling in her eyes.

"Ah yes, and what was the lesson on?"

"Erm… it was on… transfiguration…?"

Hermione frowned. "Congratulations Harry, you've named the class. Do you even know what she was talking about specifically?"

He glanced away at that, smiling awkwardly at Ginny, who only glared in return.

"We're going to briefly go through the major different types of transfigurations tomorrow," Hermione said, glancing up from her book. "Over the next several days we'll continue this. After the refresher course, we're moving straight into advanced transfiguration spells."

"Why does everything have to be advanced?" Ron muttered.

"Who knows?" she responded, closing her book as she noticed the time. "I actually had better be going. My things are up in McGonagall's office right now since the rooms aren't ready yet, and the sorting ceremony will be held tonight for a change, so that's when I'll get my room and the Heads will be announced. I haven't even seen another person parading around with a Head badge today."

Ginny shrugged, bidding her friend goodbye. "You'll see one soon enough, Hermione. Who knows, maybe the person will even be up there when you go."

"Maybe," she agreed, bidding her friends farewell. Her next class she had with Luna, which was a plus, along with Harry and Ron who would probably still be talking about the bloody transfiguration teacher. At least she would have someone else to speak to during the class, and she still had almost a half hour before class began. She was giving herself plenty of time to get up there and then to potions, just in case McGonagall decided to talk to her while she was up there, or worse- if someone badgered her in the hall and wouldn't leave her be. On her way down from transfiguration a snobby girl from Ravenclaw demanded to know why she always got special treatment and made a big scene about it. It took forever to detach herself from that one.

Exiting the Great Hall, she made sure to avoid anyone who appeared to be coming her way. The last thing she wanted was to deal with another person, and she made sure to walk quickly through the halls, avoiding anyone who wasn't a direct friend. She was doing pretty well until she reached the Headmistresses office. Since her situation was so obscure and unique she had been given the woman's password, and entered with ease. The person she found upstairs however wasn't someone she appreciated seeing.

"In trouble already?" she asked, catching the blonde off-guard. "My, I thought you would wait a bit longer before you decided to do reckless and stupid things. Perhaps a day?"

"Funny, Granger," he snapped, turning to face her now, his surprise gone. "I'm not up here because I'm in trouble."

"Snuck in then? You'll be in trouble soon enough if that's the case!"

He chuckled, seemingly amused by her assumptions for his reasoning for being up there. "No Granger, not that either." He held out a hand, beckoning to the expensive luggage pieces beside him. "It's the opposite actually; I'm not in trouble, but I was merely given the password."

For several moments the meaning of his words didn't sink in, and she stared blankly at his face, trying to figure out why this information meant anything at all to her. But slowly realization appeared on her face, and he smirked as she finally understood his implication.

"No."

"Oh, yes. Isn't it just fucking thrilling to consider that we are going to be roommates?"

Hermione shook her head, crossing her arms over her chest. "You're making this nonsense up! After the stunt you pulled sixth year and your involvement in the war, who would be stupid enough to declare you the head of anything other than chaos? There's no way it's true!"

His lip twitched at her implication, unhappy to hear that it was so unbelievable that he could be chosen for something like this merely based on his background. "Despite my past Granger, McGonagall did think I was academically suited for the task. I must say the best thing about the entire ordeal is that now I can deduct points from you as well."

"You can deduct points from other students," she snapped, "But I'm still a teacher in some aspects. My ranking beats yours."

"Only sometimes," he reminded, playing on her words as he shook a finger at her. "Sometimes, we are equals."

"Shove off Malfoy," she said, rolling her eyes as she turned away and searched for her bags. She wanted to get her books for her next class, not be pestered by the blonde moron.

"Oh, come on Granger," he said, wandering towards a window now, "It can't be so bad for you thinking we'll both share a room-"

"A _common_ room Malfoy," she said, quick to cut in and remind him of that.

"Whatever. The point is Granger that you're finally going to have a spectacular roommate."

"I'm going to have an annoying prick that can't stop talking about himself as though he's _grand_ or something."

"Au contraire Granger, I am grand."

She huffed. "Fine, Malfoy, keep boosting your own ego. But I've spent more than enough time around you today, and I'd much prefer to put some distance between us before tonight."

"Yes, as though that's going to happen," he replied, chuckling as she walked away. At the door she paused, unwilling to admit that she wanted to know what he meant by that.

"What are you saying Malfoy?"

"Have you even looked at the master schedules in the hallway? Slytherin eighth years have potions and departments together with the Gryffindors after lunch."

Hermione cringed. That meant that out of the three classes remaining for the day she had to deal with the prat for two more, as well as interact- or ignore- him later after supper when they went off to see the Head dorm rooms. Although excited about that bit, she was really beginning to dread seeing him anymore.

"At least I won't see you during my study hall class," she muttered.

To that, he grinned. "Say that again, Granger? You have another study hall class? Well, that must be in between your final two classes for the day, am I right?"

She felt the color drain from her face. She knew where he was going with this, and didn't like it.

"Well, this is going to be splendid then. I have a study hall between those classes, and perhaps my teacher will be a good sport and let me come visit."

"Malfoy, stay _away_ from my class. It was difficult enough dealing with those children this morning, and I don't need you making my life difficult again. Do you even understand how irritating it is to listen to children tell you how awful you are compared to a snob like you for an entire class? That's something I don't plan on repeating."

He placed a hand over his heart. "Ah, they really are true Slytherins."

"Yes, they are," she agreed, irritation peeking through her voice, "They are just as bigoted, arrogant, and rude as every other Slytherin that I've ever met! I'm so glad to see the snarky; rude, disrespectful traits start so very young!"

"A bit peeved, are we, Granger?"

"Oh, just a bit, Ferret. They might not like me because I'm different, but that doesn't mean you need to make it worse!" She turned away again, stomping towards the door. She was finished with this conversation, and Malfoy's annoying questions.

"Does it bother you that much Granger?" he asked, causing her to stop by the door, gripping the frame. "Does it bother you to know that an entire classroom of children hate you, despise you, despite a war having been won by your side? Does it eat at your heart to know that even after everything, after almost losing your life, to know that so many people still hate who you are?"

Her grip tightened on the doorframe. He was poking at dangerous territory, asking insensitive questions just to get a rise out of her. But she could easily see his motive, and decided to not fall victim to his attempts to get her to react. If she screamed, if she got angry, that would just confirm his suspicions. Dropping her hand from the doorframe, she marched from the room, forcing herself to not look back at him.

She didn't want to answer him, not when he already knew the answer.

* * *

"I hear he's very odd," the blonde girl at her side whispered, keeping her voice soft as usual.

"Well, the old potions teacher was strange too," Hermione reasoned, grinning at Luna. Out of all the new teachers that year, everyone was most interested in seeing who had taken over Snape's position as the potions professor. Glancing around the room, she could see that quite a few people were extraordinarily excited for this class, happy to be changing things up. The Slytherins didn't look too thrilled; considering this was also their new head of house, and Hermione wondered if they had even met the man yet. Things were different this year, and instead of having a night to settle in, they had a day to lazily see their classes. She thought this was reasonable, especially with all of the changes for this year.

Peering at the other side of the room, she caught sight of Malfoy and raised an eyebrow. He sat in a chair beside Parkinson, who was too busy speaking to someone else to pay him any mind. Although many Slytherins looked unhappy about this change, Malfoy's face was void of emotion. She frowned at that, wondering just what was going on in his head. Snape had been his godfather after all, and despite her feelings towards the prick, she couldn't help wondering how he was taking the change.

"Hermione?"

She glanced back at Luna, who she realized had been trying to speak to her. "Sorry, did you say something?"

The girl smiled, rolling her eyes. "Yes. I asked how your teacher job is going."

"Oh," she replied, having been hoping to avoid that topic. "It's… nice. The classes are both full of Slytherin's though, so you can imagine how thrilled they are to have me."

Luna shrugged. "It's not as though they have a say in the matter. They'll learn to like you."

"Or the rest of the year will be spent in torment," she muttered, resting an elbow on the desk. "I only accepted because I thought that it would help McGonagall, since she is having a hard time filling a few positions."

"I understand," Luna replied, grinning. "Don't worry, they're younger at least. If you had Malfoy in your class, I'd pray for you."

Hermione laughed dryly. "Yes, me too."

Their conversation ended there, and temporarily Luna turned around and spoke to Neville, who was sitting beside Lavender, who was trying to speak with Padma. Hermione chanced another glance over at Malfoy on the other side of the room again, and realized this time that he was gazing at her. She quickly looked away. Did he know that she had been studying him?

The classes for eighth years were a bit staggered. With the new "Ministry of Magic: Departments" class added and expected to be taken by all eighth years, people's schedules were beginning to become cramped. Not only did they have to take a required study hall, but also another class as well. For most people, that left only five class spaces open. Meaning that a lot of classes were a mix of all four houses, despite the original intention being that the separation would remain the same as it had been the past seven years. But since things were so different many students ended up taking classes outside of the time their "house" was set to have that class, like potions for example. Hermione knew that this was supposed to be just a Slytherin/Gryffindor class, but Luna and a few other children stuck out and broke the house expectations. When scheduling became too hard, the Headmistress just agreed to place students wherever was possible to make a schedule work. Hermione was happy to have the blonde girl in her class now, considering that she could still hear Ron, Harry and now Seamus going on about the bloody transfiguration teacher. Would the topic ever end?

Moments later a door at the front on a side wall opened, causing the classroom to quiet down. Everyone was accustomed to seeing Snape wander through that strange entranceway, and a few still hoped that it was the former potions teacher who would step forth now. But the man that stepped out into the front of the room was certainly not Snape.

His hair was broken, worn long and shaggy to the point where it just brushed his shoulders. Glasses adored his face, causing deep green eyes to pop against the contrast of his pale completion. He wore completely black but not a robe. His clothing was simple, and the sleeves of the shirt were rolled up to his elbows, to keep them from getting dirty. He peered around at the class with narrowed eyes, as though already determining who he would and would not like.

"I am Healer Skillman," he said, resting his hands on the desk before him. "I traditionally work for the Ministry at St. Mungo's, creating and producing potions to help those affected by war, disease, and the like. Due to some resent events, I've had some time open up and your Headmistress sought me out to teach potions here at your little school. Due to the fact that I do indeed have two jobs, I've had to make several deals with the Headmistress about how to work the schooling system into my schedule. As of yet, you probably haven't heard about the plans for potions this year."

Hermione glanced at Luna, who returned the look of confusion on her face. The brunette had no idea that this man worked two jobs.

"You are the eighth year class, meaning that you've had more experience with potions and your other classes than all the other children in this building. That being said, this year of potions will be quite different than those you have experienced in the past. We will meet twice a week on Tuesdays and Fridays, today being the exception since its introductions. You will have double block classes those days- or at least most of you will- else you would not be in this particular period. Those will be the only days we meet, and they will be your only lesson days. I suppose you've noticed by now that the text you bought for potions this year is somewhat more… detailed than those you have gotten in the past. This year's class will be partially self-taught, for I will show you how to make something on Tuesdays and Fridays, and then you will have the days in between to not only replicate what I have shown you, but to also enhance it." He grinned, watching several sets of eyes widen around the room.

"Welcome, to advanced potions children. This class will not only stretch your boundaries and test how creative as well as practical you can be, but will also test how well you can manage yourself. Creating potions is not always about succeeding and making something new that could help with different things, but is also about trial and error. I do not expect you to achieve creating a new mixture every three days. But I do want to see that you are stretching your boundaries to create new things. When something doesn't turn out correctly, it will be very obvious, even if you weren't sure what you were going for. When your potion idea fails, you must write me a paper explaining why you think it was wrong. It doesn't have to be an essay, simply an analysis as to why that particular combination did not achieve something great."

He looked around the room, noticing how many of the children suddenly looked terrified of this class. It was expected, though he didn't see why they had to be so appalled by the idea. As eighth years, they were expected to take on challenging things, and not still have the answers to things like this fed to them. In the real world when they had jobs, the answers wouldn't be there for them created by someone else. They would need to figure them out themselves.

A hand shot up in the air. He raised an eyebrow. "What's your name, girl?"

Hermione frowned as she was acknowledged, finding his greeting to be quite informal and borderline rude, especially for a classroom atmosphere. "Hermione Granger," she said, eyeing him as his own green orbs narrowed at her name. "If we are to write a paper when we fail to create something, then what happens if we succeed?"

Skillman's eyes twinkled at that, the tiniest hint of life appearing now in his stiff form. "Ah yes, that. It's not impossible for someone your age to create a new potion, though it's improbable that it will happen every single class. If you do create something, you'll certainly receive high marks and extra credit. You'll also be given the opportunity to accompany me to St. Mungos one day when I am working to test the potion and see what it can do. If a use does arise for what you've made, then plans will be set up depending on what you've created. It varies depending on what you produced."

The woman nodded to that, though she wasn't overly excited with his answer. She was hoping for something more… detailed.

"Now, as for how this class will be working, although it is based off of what you yourself can create, that's a lot of weight to place on just one person. When I introduced this type of teaching to the Headmistress, she demanded that you work in pairs. I do not know any of you personally, so I set up the pairings based off of the house you live in. Although so very many of you seem to be locked into spending time with only with those in your house, that simply won't do. We're supposed to promote inter-house unity this year, as you will learn later tonight at your feast, and it won't do any good to have you all working amongst the friends you've always had. I've set up the pairings accordingly."

A series of groans erupted from the room, this class being the first to mention that dreaded idea. House unity existed among three of the four houses, and as far as the students were concerned, that's all that really mattered. Slytherins had no interest in interacting with the rest of the school, and vise-versa. But considering the two main houses in that room right now, everyone knew the pairings wouldn't be good. And this was the first class to bring such an idea into the light.

"When I mention your pairing, go and sit with that person. Some are boy-girl, some are not. It simply depends on how many students there are per class. Now don't complain; I won't be changing this for anyone. First and foremost, I have Granger and Malfoy. I'm certain you'll realize why this pairing exists in just a few hours."

The room got quite quiet as Hermione realized what he had just said, what he implied. She knew immediately that he had partnered them because they were the Heads, because it was indicated in all their paperwork that they were. But that didn't mean that she liked his choice, or that she thought this system was going to have any benefits later on. How many students were actually going to work well with someone they hated?

The class was quiet, watching and waiting to see which one of them would object first. Malfoy had his lips pressed into a thin line, glaring daggers at a wall on the other side of the room. She knew he wouldn't move, not when he had been looking so terribly angry since stepping into the classroom. Either she could move, or the entire class could sit in the same unpleasant silence until Merlin knew when.

Deciding she needed to be the bigger person and just move, she reluctantly grabbed her things and stood up, staring directly in front of her as she walked to the other side of the room. When she got to the table where Malfoy sat, Parkinson was still sitting there.

"I'm not moving!" she snapped. "This is stupid."

"You don't have to like it," the teacher said, not asking for her name, "You simply have to do it. If you prefer to not take this class, go on upstairs and request to be transferred like everyone else in here shall. But remember that if you do create something, you'll get a lot of money for it, and you'll earn a lot of job and college opportunities."

Pansy looked appalled. "I have money! Why would I need a job?!"

He shrugged. "Fair enough. Just move for your fellow student. Go ahead and storm off now if you will."

Miffed that the teacher didn't seem at all unsettled by the angry atmosphere now forming around the classroom, Parkinson snagged her bag and stomped towards the door. "I'll definitely be getting out of this class then! The bloody nerve!"

Once Parkinson had made her overly dramatic departure, Hermione sat down, situated her things, and dropped her head onto the books in front of her. She couldn't believe out of all the things that could happen today, this was what she got stuck with. Was the universe trying to make her lose her mind?

Malfoy didn't say a word to her during the rest of class, which she was grateful for since she knew he'd probably have something rude to day. She stopped listening to the teacher rattle off names, knowing that she could hear all about Harry's and Ron's dilemmas later on. For now, she was perfectly content resting her head against her books, ignoring everyone.

With Malfoy as a partner _and_ a roommate, it was going to be one hell of a year.

* * *

By the time dinner was over, Hermione had decided that she hated everyone. Waiting in the hallway now for the Headmistress to come out, she wished more than anything that Malfoy would stop pacing.

He'd been silent since potions, saying nothing and interacting with no one. He didn't even come and bother her during her study hall, which was fine since she once again had to listen to some irrational, young Slytherins complain about her being their teacher and how she was a filthy Mudblood. Everyone who used the word got a five-point deduction. Needless to say that after the initial bickering, name calling and anger, no one had anything else to say to her for the rest of the class. For that she was thankful.

The department class was her last period, and she found it quite interesting. Mr. Barlett was quite a pleasant chap, and out of the three new teachers she'd met he happened to be her favorite. A lot of people seemed to find the subject boring, but she was thrilled to get the chance to learn about the different positions in the Ministry. A lot of classes for the eighth years seemed to be career based that year. She liked it. In fact she was so interested during that class that she actually forgot to see how Malfoy was fairing. But when she saw him in the hallway earlier before the feast while they were waiting to be introduced, she realized she had missed nothing. He was still moody.

Being introduced to the entire school as not only a Head but also a teacher was surreal. Most of the student body seemed to be supporting her in her endeavors, save the Slytherins whom she never expected to be excited about it all. This was something she could handle.

And now they were standing around in the hallway, waiting for McGonagall. Their luggage had already been moved and placed in their dorm rooms, and it was simply a matter of time now until they got to see it. Despite the fact that she had to share it with Malfoy, she was quite excited to see it.

"Ah, I see the two of you haven't killed one another yet," came a voice, and Hermione looked over her shoulder to see McGonagall walking out of the Great Hall, nodding to each of them. "Excellent. Well, come this way you two. I'm sure you'll want to see and set up your rooms."

Silently agreeing, the two followed the Headmistress, Draco behind Hermione. They wandered up a floor or so, occasionally seeing the lines of students headed back to their common rooms, but they did not join any. In fact, they stopped outside the library.

"Don't tell me we'll be sleeping in there," the blonde spat, saying the first thing Hermione had heard from him all day. Glancing over her shoulder at him, she glared. Staying in the library sounded like a dream to her!

"Not exactly," the woman said, producing two sets of keys from her robes. "With the new precautions taken this year after the war, we've decided to house the heads in a space that seems the most productive for them. Since you will be in charge of many things we wanted to give you a space away from the others, a place that is secure, but somewhere where we will know whether or not you bring in people from your own houses past curfew. You're welcome to visit with your friends there, but past curfew, don't bring any of them here, understood? We don't want anyone breaking the rules." She looked at Draco as she said this, who just rolled his eyes.

She handed each of them a key. "These will open the library doors, which you will need for the nights when you patrol the halls. But until curfew, the library doors will be open." Pushing the doors open, she stepped inside, the two following closely behind.

They walked to the back of the library, passing the librarian as they went. At the back, McGonagall pointed to a book. "This will open the staircase up to your rooms. Keep in mind that you shouldn't let just anyone see where your rooms are, or which book to grab. Each month, you can change which book it is, even move ones from different bookcases here, to keep it secret. There's a painting in the hallway on the way up that will notice intruders anyway. Your things have been placed in your rooms already, and the layout of the common room should be simple enough. The expected Head Boy and Girl tasks are listed on a board between the two rooms, so you will always be alerted when something is coming up and you'll know what needs to be done. Hermione, your room is on the left, and Draco, yours the right. Any questions?"

They both shook their heads, eager to get up to their rooms. Hermione wanted to see the space, and Draco wanted some privacy. After bidding the Headmistress goodbye, Hermione looked at the book she had pointed at.

"It says 'How to Make Your Enemies Your Friends'. Think there's a message there?"

He rolled his eyes. "Who cares Granger? Just move the bloody book so we can go up already."

She sighed. "Fine." Removing the book, the bookcase slid inward some, leaving a big enough gap that they could slip through. Once through to the other side, the shelf slipped back into place and she set the book back in place from that side, finding that there was a gap in the bookcase just for it. Once replaced, the gap disappeared.

"Interesting," she said, glancing at the blonde. He was already making his way up the steps, completely uninterested in the entranceway. She followed behind him, waving at the portrait McGonagall had mentioned as she went. It was a painting of a man and woman, gripping two identical keys outside the door. She suspected it was a nod towards how they got into the library.

At the top of the stairs there was no door. The space opened into a large common room, decorated in creams and blacks. She supposed this was done to keep the tacky red/green décor from ruining the space. It was huge, with a small kitchenette to one side and a large sitting area for them to use. A fireplace adored one wall, and she grinned. It was lovely.

"I'm going to bed," he said gruffly, already wandering towards his bedroom. She frowned, thrown by his sudden departure. After his attitude that morning she expected him to try and declare half the room his and that she couldn't touch his things or some other rubbish like that. She didn't expect him to retire peacefully, or so early.

"Now?" she asked, surprised. Wouldn't he want to look around?

"Yes, now," he said gruffly, reaching his door. "And don't interrupt me! I don't want you anywhere near my room."

There it was. "Fine. Go be lonesome in your room."

"Whatever," he muttered, stepping inside as he slammed the door. She sighed, wandering to a couch. She flopped down on it, staring at the ceiling. They should be excited and looking around, but instead he was moping over Merlin knew what and she was now irritated.

Well, maybe her mood would brighten again if she went and looked at her room.

* * *

**A/n: **Thoughts? Remember, next chapter will be shorter, around 3,000 words! Keep those reviews up :)


	3. Angel's Trumpet Draught

**A/n**: Thanks to my beta **divina126**! Enjoy!

* * *

**Chapter 3: Angel's Trumpet Draught **

Hermione adored her room. It had hints of the Gryffindor colors without being overpowering, the main colors remaining the same neutral colors. She had her own bathroom which was a major perk, and a bed twice the size of her old one, with way too much storage in the space. But no matter, she loved it anyway.

The following morning she decided it was best to leave the common room without speaking to Malfoy, considering how moody he was the night before. Since he wasn't excited last night about their space, she doubted he would be any better early in the morning. And she didn't want to tolerate his bitter mood at the moment.

Stepping into the common room she was met with a surprise. Part of her supposed that the man wouldn't be up so early in the morning, much less done with his legendary long showers (she'd heard about them more than she cared for as an underclassman), yet there he sat on the sofa, reading what appeared to be yesterday's paper. He couldn't receive todays until the mail drop off at breakfast. Hoping to slip out of the dorm without another bloody confrontation she looked away from him and began wandering far back near the wall, attempting to make a big loop out of the place, but he caught her.

"Going out of your way to avoid me?" he asked, not looking up. She stopped walking briefly, glancing his way.

"Well, of course! After your terribly moody behavior last night I have no intention of attempting to tolerate you." She turned her nose up, making to leave again, but he merely chuckled.

"Oh, yes, that," he said, waving his hand. "You best get used to that Granger."

"Beg your pardon? I'm not ever going to get used to anything about you!"

"Well then, you're going to be weirded out every night," he muttered, but she caught his words and drifted away from the wall, stepping closer to the couch.

"What do you mean every night?" she asked. "Are the mood swings common?"

He shrugged, returning his attention to the old paper. "They happen when they chose, like with every other person."

Hermione frowned. "Are you sure about that? You seemed-"

"They're just like anyone else's mood swings!" he snapped, pushing the paper down against his knees so he could look directly at her. "Now if you don't mind, stop prying. It's my bloody problem to worry about why my mood changes, not yours. And for the record, mood swings _are_ common! You fucking women go through them all the time!"

Her eyebrows shot up. Women might be known for being overly emotional sometimes, but he didn't need to bring that up in this conversation. She got the feeling he was just avoiding mentioning something. "Whatever Malfoy, I can see that this bloody year is going to be just peachy! We can argue in the mornings and you can be depressed and overly angry at night! Brilliant, just bloody brilliant! And then I can attempt to tolerate you during potions!" She threw her hands up, spinning on her heel towards the door. "As soon as I found out you were Head Boy, I knew that I wasn't going to like this situation! You just make everything so much more difficult!"

The blonde said nothing as she left the common room, preferring to sit still and wait until he heard the bookcase at the bottom of the stairs slide open and shut. Once he did, his lip twitched and he threw the paper aside, standing as he wandered to the window. This room was in one of the higher towers at Hogwarts, something that truly bothered him. His common room had always been in the Dungeons, below the lake, just where he liked it. Being that high up in the air as he slept was disorienting, for even his room at the Manor was perched on a lower level than this.

The Manor; he shuddered at the very memory of that place. In the last year that place brought up nothing but nightmares and reminders of how stupid he had been. He didn't like the place anymore, couldn't find comfort in the structure that had been his ancestral home for centuries. The essence of the Dark Lord lingered in the halls, even after death. Draco couldn't lie; he was glad to take a break from the place.

But not as glad as he was to escape _them_, his parents. It was suffocating to live in that Manor with them after everything that happened, after their worlds fell apart and everyone's mood soured. They were always at each other's throats, leaving Draco to listen to the vindictive screams from his parents' mouths at night. And then one day, they stopped, and Narcissa stopped spending the nights in her bed. He had yet to question his mother about what she did nowadays, mostly because he didn't want to know.

There was so much to handle, sometimes he didn't think he could take it. His hands fell into his pockets, gripping his secret item there. His wand sat back on the couch, forgotten in this moment in time. Draco closed his eyes, wondering if he should just stop taking it altogether; this coping mechanism wasn't the best for his health.

_I need to look the part of Draco Malfoy though, otherwise people are going to realize the war altered my former self more so than they know. _Sighing he reached into his pocket and pulled the item out, staring at it sitting there in his hand.

_Just once more. I'll start feeling like my former self soon enough, I just need this until my mood brightens again from being around my friends. It'll all stop soon. _

He grinned in satisfaction, happy that he'd come up with an answer to his problem.

* * *

First period was again tedious for Hermione. Although Malfoy stayed away from her class, the students worked to defy her with every little thing she had to say. It was worse than when the students tried to defy Hagrid! People might not respect him, but at least they usually let him finish a sentence. They kept trying to cut her off every time she told them to be quiet. It was tiresome, but she didn't want to hand out detentions to the bloody students quite yet. That meant that she would need to spend even more time with them.

Thankfully Malfoy was keeping his distance. She saw him that morning at breakfast, arriving several minutes after she did to sit in the partially full Great Hall and await his friends. She had expected him to wait until later to come down seeing as most Slytherins didn't make their way in for almost another half hour, and he sat there alone looked peeved at everyone. She didn't question it.

It probably didn't help that her assigned detention for the Head Boy took place last night on their very first day back to school, cleaning for Filch. She knew he had gone, for while she was awake in her room reading she could hear his bedroom door open through the thin walls and hear him stomp across the floor, making as much noise as possible as he departed. She knew that if he was going to meet someone or a couple of friends, he wouldn't have bothered with all the commotion. But he had declared earlier on that night that he was sleeping, and the detention would just force him to get up earlier than he wanted to go spend time with someone he didn't like, and then return that night to sleep again. She was just waiting for the irritated retorts that were likely to follow later on.

But mostly, she spent the class period watching the students talk amongst one another, still lacking any schoolwork to do. Occasionally they threw something her way, like an angry retort or sneer, and she retaliated the statement with something much cleverer. After years of witty battle with Malfoy she was conditioned to best anyone, especially a classroom of young Slytherins.

Hopefully the blonde wouldn't be quite so strange when they next met up.

* * *

The pair didn't speak again until they were forced to be partners in potions, something Hermione couldn't say she was overly upset about. The day had been easy enough so far, and she even enjoyed the fact that she could hold a conversation with Harry and Ron in the halls and not be interrupted by the blonde. But all good things come to an end, and as potions rolled around Hermione begrudgingly accepted that she would have to see him again, for it would be harder to avoid her potions_ partner _in fifth hour than it was to avoid an Arithmancy classmate in second. Taking a seat beside him just before the bell rang, she sank in her seat. And what kind of troubles would today hold?

"Today class," Skillman said once then bell rang, not bothering with any sort of greeting, "I'll be creating a basic Angel's Trumpet Draught. Can anyone tell me what this potion is?"

Hermione raised her hand, the only one out of the group, but it took the teacher many moments to notice her since he was still working on his potion. Glancing up, he inclined his head in her direction. "Granger, go for it."

"It's a make-believe spell," she said, her eyebrows drawn together in confusion. "The usage of Angel's Trumpet Draught is unknown because as of today no real reasoning for the spell exists. People two centuries ago thought the potion, when brewed when a full moon arises, could call the dead back to earth briefly, allowing grieving people to speak to the dead. Today though, the potion is disregarded because no one is sure what it can really do."

The man nodded to her, looking slightly impressed by her extensive knowledge. "Quite. The potion itself is very simple to make, but your task for this is to put your own spin on the potion to see how it turns out. People have been trying to alter this potion for years, searching for the original reason for its creation, which was lost in time centuries before the ghost idea came about. Your task for this potion is to try and add you own ingredients or combinations and see where it goes. You'll know if a potion is correct, because it will always glow a certain hue when complete. If you have not created something, no glow will ever appear, as I'm sure you've learned from previous years in this class."

He cleared his throat, continuing to speak. "This particular assignment is a bit more open-ended than what you will usually be assigned, but it's to test and see where each of you level in creativity as well as ability. If you looked on your desks during arrival, you'll notice parchment with several things listed upon it. It is a checklist so that I know what amount of work each student put into each assignment, and you will have the same checklist throughout the duration of this class. You will check off in the boxes whether you did a certain bit of work, your partner, or both. The parchment is charmed however, so if you attempt to lie, you'll receive a nasty zap up your arm. This is your only warning; the parchment will be able to tell if you lie, and if you simply turn in a blank sheet to me at the end of each task I'll give you a zero on the assignment, but full credit to your partner if they do turn theirs in. You have been warned."

"This is one of the few assignments that you will be assigned that you'll have an entire week to work on. There will be no Friday class this week, but I will be present in this classroom during what would be your class period in case you have any questions about your failing assignment. Do not get comfortable or lazy with this arrangement, for if you turn in a makeshift project after being given an entire week to work I will scrap the entire thing and automatically give you no points. This is not a class you will skid through, Slytherin or otherwise."

Hermione raised an eyebrow at that, cautiously glancing Malfoy's way. He didn't look happy again, the semi-decent look on his face from that morning gone, replaced by a scowl. She was beginning to think that he simply didn't like this teacher.

"You can begin planning with your partner, or watch a demonstration of how the potion is made, since I know this is not one that you ever used before. You will only see how the basic form of this potion is made once. Now get to work, or walk up here and watch."

Half the class got up at that, scurrying forward to see the potion being made. Hermione had read about this before, and knew that it didn't take very long. Deciding that it would be simple to make the basic form of the potion later on after her Departments class, she remained sitting, opting to avoid conversing with the blonde in that moment. Below the desk she could see that he was twirling his wand in one hand, and she wondered as to what had him so irritated.

Reaching forward, she picked up the bit of parchment on her desk and read through the tasks, each thing listed was followed by four boxes, labeled 'you' 'your partner' 'neither' or 'joint'. Hermione wondered how much of their work would actually be joint, and quickly read through the list:

_Preparing the basic potion_

_Researching what combinations to make_

_Trying out the different ways to alter the potion_

_Note taking_

_Watching the potion/monitoring_

_Trading ideas with other classmates_

_Stealing ideas from other classmates_

_Secretly altering potion_

_Writing out report to turn in_

She quickly realized not everything on that list was beneficial. It was set up to make sure that people did their own work so that he wouldn't receive the same failed attempt seventeen times from everyone in class copying one another. Checking off some of those things could get you points marked off, or deducted substantially. Glancing at Malfoy, she frowned.

He'd gone up to watch the demonstration, leaving her alone. She assumed it was so that he could get away from her, but nonetheless it seemed weird. She knew his skill level was high enough that he didn't need to be watching a demonstration for a basic potion, and quickly picked out his form standing on the edge of the group, possibly too far back to see anything.

She noticed he was standing close to the professor's main desk, and narrowed her eyes when she noticed one of his hands moving. Realizing what he was doing, she sat back in her chair and glared at his head, hoping he would turn around to see the disapproval in her eyes.

He had just taken something off of the desk and pocketed it. Normally she would bring that to someone's attention right away or confront the person that took the item, but she didn't do that with him. Instead, she raised an eyebrow. With her new teacher status, she could easily confront him and demand to know what he took before serving out a detention. It would be easy enough, and she could do it after class or when he sat down without making a huge scene.

That was, if he decided to make things easy and not argue with her. And knowing him, things probably wouldn't be as easy as she wanted to believe.

* * *

**A/n:** I really like this story guys, I do. But it might mention magical drugs, just FYI so no one gets mad about it later. I'll put a proper warning at the beginning of the next chapter and maybe in the summery.

So, what did you guys think? Let me know in a review, yeah? It would make my day!


	4. From the Cauldron

**A/n:** Thanks to my beta **divina126**! Not yet edited.

* * *

Speaking to Malfoy after class truly did prove to be a difficult affair. He attempted to ignore her twice, then dragged her into a classroom to avoid speaking to her in the hallways after class. Needless to say, she was miffed.

"You know I can give you detention for this," she huffed, crossing her arms. He simply rolled his eyes and leaned against the currently unoccupied teachers desk, looking over at her.

"Well, is there something I can do for you then Granger? I have better things to do than to drag you in here to get you out of the center of the hallway, and then to get bitched at for it. Can you just get this over with? Whatever your spiel is this time, make it snappy would you? I have better places to be."

Her cheeks colored and she stormed up to him, pausing directly in front of his form. "What did you steal off Healer Killman's desk?"

The blonde crossed his arms, cocking an eyebrow at her. "You're prying, Granger."

"I'm inquiring about that object you stole off his desk!" she hissed, crossing her own arms as well. "I thought you were above petty theft."

"You thought I was above something?" he asked, cocking an eyebrow at her. "Impressive. I've been under the impression that you detest me."

She growled. "Stop changing the topic! What did you take? I might be Head Girl Malfoy, but I'm also a teacher. I'll give you another detention for this!"

"Oh yeah?" he asked, leaning closer to her as she leaned slightly away. "Are you going to throw me at Filch again? He was not happy to see me so early in the school year, especially when another _student_ was the one who directed me to him. I'm sure he'll have something to say if you toss me his way again."

"No," she replied, thinking quickly, "Obviously last time didn't prove to you that I mean business! I'm not taking your shit this year Malfoy, not after everything. Why can't you just grow up a bit? If you won't act like a _mature_ adult then I'll treat you like a child."

To that, his lips twisted into a sneer and his eyes glowed a bit. "_Don't_ talk down to me Granger!" he spat, taking several steps towards her as she took several steps back. Status or not, he was still quite a bit bigger than her, and she didn't favor being stepped upon. "You're fucking teacher status isn't all that fantastic. You're working as a study hall teacher, a job that could be fulfilled by a plant if the students behave well enough. It doesn't involve any knowledge, how to, or training to know how to handle something like that! McGonagall gave you the easiest job, didn't offer you a position as the transfiguration teacher or potions or anything else because she obviously doesn't believe that you could handle the task."

Hermione balled up her fists, glaring at him. "One week's detention Malfoy, this time with me. I will not be continuing this conversation with you while you talk to me so disrespectfully!"

"Disrespectfully? We're the same fucking rank Granger! All you do is watch a room of students that hate your guts! That makes you no better than me."

"Obviously it does!" she snapped, shaking a finger at him. "_You're_ Head Boy, so we're the same ranking as you say, right? McGonagall had _two_ Head's to choose from, and she chose me. She could've chose you, but she didn't. And I doubt it's just because you're a Slytherin."

"She didn't choose me because I'm a Malfoy," he said, rolling his eyes. "Why would she trust me after the war? I'm not a fool you know Granger, I see how people still look at me with a lack of trust or pure hatred. She didn't chose me because she has no reason to trust me, because she doesn't fucking like me. It's not like there would've been a doubt in her mind as to who to choose to begin with! Fucking Granger, the goody-two-shoes and war heroine beside Saint Potter, or me, Draco Malfoy, who fucked up for the past four years! There was never a competition Granger, so don't start thinking your some sort of gem. Even if I'm just as qualified as you are, it makes no difference. My background will prevent me from receiving certain things in life, and this will not be the first time something passes me by because I was a Death Eater, believe you me."

"Malfoy-"

"Oh, don't start with your sappy bullshit," he said, shaking his head. "I don't want comfort or anything silly from you, I'm just telling you how if fucking is. You were chosen out of default, end of story. I would never be chosen because the old bat doesn't trust me. It's a surprise that I can be fucking trusted as the bloody Head Boy."

"I got the job because I work hard!" she snapped, moving away from him. "You were never a choice _because_ I've worked harder for it. I've proven myself in my teachers eyes. I mastered all sorts of things, I tried new things, fought for what I believe in, and went against the odds."

He scoffed. "And you think I'm a pompous arse? Listen to yourself! You sound like you have the biggest ego in the bloody world!"

"I'm repeating what I've been told!"

"Stroking your ego then, are we? Does that help when students throw harsh words in your direction despite your accomplishments? Maybe that's how you muster up enough courage to go to those study hall classes every day. Most people couldn't take the hate you know."

"I've been hated my entire life," she reminded, balling and un-balling her hands. "By you first and foremost. Hatred is nothing new to me, and someone will always hate me throughout the rest of my life. That's how life works. Why you insist on hating me more this year than any other though blindsides me."

"Why do you think I hate you more?" he sneered, leaning against the wall. He thought she was making this nonsense up.

"Maybe because you lost your dignity," she said, tapping her chin, "Because you lost your pride? Because-"

Before she knew what was happening she was being slammed back into the wall and spun around so she could face the blonde, a strong set of arms pinning her there.

"You know nothing about me," he hissed, getting in close to her face, though it didn't seem to affect her like he hoped. "_Nothing_. What the papers post and what is actually true are very different things. Don't assume that what you've heard is fucking true!"

"You should take your own advice!" she screamed, the feeling in her arms already disappearing. "Put me down this instant! I'll have a report out to McGonagall in an instant for this! You can't get away with shit like this anymore Malfoy!"

"I'm not getting away with anything," he snapped, leaning closer still. "I'm sure that tonight in the common room you'll have plenty to say to me, am I right? I'm not getting away with shit Granger; I'm merely making a statement. Don't fucking assume things about me, when you don't know anything."

He dropped her arms, stepping away as she moved to rub the red patches, glaring him down as he retreated. She was livid.

"This isn't over Malfoy. We can talk about this later when we go back to the common room tonight to work on our project."

"Oh, right. I forgot that you planned to dictate my fun now that we're partners." He turned away, making a face. "I've already made plans with Theo and Blaise, and I won't be going anywhere near that place until after my plans are finished with them. I'm sure you'll miss me."

"You can't ignore this," she muttered as he wandered towards the door, not bothering to turn around this time. She waited until after he was gone before doing anything else, deciding to let the conversation drop for now. Once she was sure he was gone, she pulled out her wand from her back pocket and whispered a spell as she dug for some parchment, pleased when the conversation they just had wrote itself across the blank pieces of paper. She grinned.

Okay, so maybe that conversation wasn't the most helpful thing ever, and maybe her arms would be a bit sore now. But she had the feeling something was still up with the blonde prat, and after last night she had decided to place an always-there spell on her wand, so she could take notes on him. Basically, all she had to do was twist her fingers a certain way and her wand would start tracking all the words said from that moment on, recording until she chose to stop the spell. She decided to install it when she realized that uncovering anything on the blonde might be ridiculously difficult. But now she had a complete set of notes about the blonde and intended to figure out what she could based off of his actions just now.

Something was up with him, and she'd be damned if she let him be the reason that her grade in potions suffered, as well as the antagonist of her life. He could spew all the shit he wanted at her, but she was trying her best to ignore him. And maybe if she could discover the reason why he was so moody, things would make more sense. After all, she knew he hated her, but his actions just now seemed a bit extreme and unorthodox. The last time she checked, he would rather die than touch her.

Hermione wasn't exactly sure what was going on in his head anymore.

* * *

A conversation that night never happened, nor did anything else for the next two days. He stayed out until an ungodly hour that first night, and she simply gave up and went to sleep for her own sanity. In the morning she was grumpy from being up late and decided to ignore him, thinking that maybe he would come around if she didn't bother him until they were back in their dorm. But on Wednesday and Thursday he again stayed out late, and she wondered if he was finding ways to avoid talking to her all together. By Friday morning she was sick of it, and personally went to deal with their potions assignment in the Library, seeing as Friday was the one day of the week that she had neither study hall to deal with. It was ridiculously refreshing. Those children really got tiresome after a while.

Besides, if she got some work done now she was only securing her own grade. Maybe he would realize that his grade would plummet if he didn't help- considering that their assignment sheet was charmed so they couldn't lie about who did what- and he would actually show up at a decent time and try to be useful. She didn't have any faith in that though, considering that tonight was Friday, and knew he probably wouldn't even be reachable until Sunday when his bloody partying was finished. Leaving notes didn't do her a wink of good either, as he simply ignored them, and she couldn't have the conversation with him that she wanted during a class. Therefore, she was shit out of luck at the moment, and hoped that he might decide to be useful sometime soon, less she do the entire thing herself. She might actually prefer it that way if he wasn't concerned about grades.

Flipping through books so far, she had only found bits of information on the draught, mainly things that wouldn't help her at all, such as:

_It's exact usage and effects are unknown, but it is most likely that it is a poison (as opposed to an anti-venom), for several reasons: Firstly, the flowering plant known as Angel's Trumpet is poisonous; Secondly, the TCG card that the potion comes from does damage; Finally, the flask in the picture of the Angel's Trumpet Draught is engraved with a stylized angel of the type often shown on Victorian funerary monuments._

Well, that didn't really teach her anything other than that there wasn't really anything known about it. While researching poisons, she found it just as hard to come up with anything suitably useful. Morticaine was the first thing she located, though the information was vague and all it told her was that she would need 307 ingredients and six months to work on it. Frankly, she didn't have the time or patience to handle something like that. Besides, she wasn't looking to poison anyone, and would probably be deducted points if she created something harmful like that.

Poison wasn't what she wanted. She just wanted to understand the point of an Angel's Trumpet Draught, and it seemed that the professor did an exceedingly good job picking the hardest potion possible for their first assignment. Aside from the fable of conjuring ghosts, she wasn't quite sure which direction to even take the draught.

Conjuring ghosts seemed a bit unneeded in the magical world, however. Hogwarts itself housed many ghosts, so why ever would someone want to conjure one? She wasn't even sure that was possible once someone crossed over. As far as she knew, once someone crossed over into the spirit world and left mortality then that was it, right? There was no calling someone back as far as she was concerned.

But then, it might be interesting revenue to explore. She didn't think there was anything factually there, but the topic would likely piss Malfoy off that it was so silly, and they might get points for creativity. The topic was tempting. Getting up from her table of useless books, she peered around at the library again, searching for something on ghosts this time and not poisons.

_In the twenty-first century, most people that there is more than just physical reality, including ghosts. When one crosses over the continuity continues through dreams and other physical and psychic events that allow them to connect with deceased loved one. It is all about frequency, energies, and projected illusion in the grids of parallel realities. _

_Ghosts appear to us as projected illusion, just as we appear to them in much the same manner, for in truth all of reality is a virtual reality experience which we observe through the illusion of time. _

_Halloween is linked to ghosts and all things scary. _

_So you want to meet a ghost ... or perhaps you live with one and want to make contact ... or you want to get rid of a pesky ghost. _

_Does the idea of a ghost scare you? As with all things in our reality, ghosts can be both negative or positive, yet non-the-less scare people with their presence and antics. Paranormal conditioning is ruled by fear of the unknown - that which we do not understand and cannot control._

She made a face at one of the books she had picked up, shoving it back on the shelf. That sounded more like muggle theories than anything, and wouldn't be surprised if it was considering that the library did stock up on some muggle books after the war, particularly to help the students taking Muggle Studies. She appreciated that they were there, for it didn't seem like the muggle/half-blood community was quite so segregated now.

If only they had picked stories that actually made sense.

Wandering back to her table, she tapped her quill against the wood. Perhaps her best option here wasn't necessarily to do a bunch of research, but instead to perhaps try things out on her own. It was Friday so she could go spend some time with her friends before she needed to be concerned about the late hour, and then she could return to the dorm to start playing around with this nonsense. She planned to take up the entire common room table just to irritate the blonde.

He wouldn't get away with being so crude to her, not that easy.

* * *

"You've covered everything in this bloody common room," he spat, having returned surprisingly early from his Friday night out. She expected him to be out a lot longer, causing mischief with his friends. "At least stop bothering me so I can get out of this mess."

"It's our project," she replied dully, dropping something else into the cauldron before her. "I know grades couldn't mean less to you, but my grades are important, so I'm not going to let you be my downfall. Quit complaining about the common room you haven't even used since we were given this room and go on your marry way. It's not as if you're interested in the bloody fucking assignment anyway."

It was surprising to hear the brunette woman sound so riled up, and briefly the man studied what she had scattered across the common room. Books of all sorts adored the sofa, leaving simply no space to sit upon. She had a collection of assorted ingredients covering one half of the large table as well as the floor space beside the chair and the chair itself. She had saved only the footstool to sit upon, declaring that to be an adequate place to seat herself. The other chair was covered in parchment, and on closer examination he could see that it was covered in notes. Reaching forward, he picked one up to examine it.

_Clairvoyants_

_Clairvoyants who claim to communicate with the dead-and warnings not to listen to them-go back at least as far as the Old Testament, yet psychics continue to flourish in back parlors and storefronts across America. None today is better known or more listened to than John Edward, a fast-talking former ballroom-dancing instructor who is cleaning up on his proclaimed ability "to connect with energies of people who have crossed over." Died, that is. _

_Indeed, his nightly Crossing Over with John Edward is the highest-rated show on the Sci Fi network and is about to go into syndication. He has made appearances on Larry King Live, Dateline, an HBO special, Entertainment Tonight and other TV shows. Between his fees for individual appointments, tickets for his seminars and stage appearances, and sales of his books, audiotapes and videotapes, Edward seems to be one of the few growth industries in an otherwise lackluster economy. _

_But is he for real? Edward's critics claim his feats are merely illusions created by standard magicians' ploys-helped along, they charge, by a few tactics that are downright underhanded._

He screwed up his face, dropping the paper back on her stack. "What in Merlin's name are you trying to achieve?"

"Oh, now you're interested?" she asked, never looking up from her cauldron. "The fact that I'm going to wipe the floor with you during this first assignment is beginning to get to you I see."

"I could give a fuck less about potions," he hissed, catching her off-guard. "What I'm wondering about is why the hell you're resorting to this rubbish about clairvoyants? I know you're half muggle Granger, but this is just ridiculous! I've heard rumors about those clairvoyants, and they are nothing but posers. I can't believe you're actually taking notes on this shit after living in Hogwarts! We have ghosts literally living in the building, and you're concerned about some clairvoyants?"

"Do you even know what a clairvoyant is, or are you simply resenting the idea because it's muggle?" she challenged, looking up from her work to give him a smug look. There was no way he knew a thing about what he was talking about.

He smirked in return. "Clairvoyance: having the supposed power to see objects or events that cannot be perceived by the senses. A person, such as a medium, possesses the supposed power of clairvoyance."

She scowled. "You looked that up in a dictionary, didn't you?"

"What if I did? I know what it means and it's simply rubbish!"

"Is it rubbish because of what it entails, or is it rubbish because its muggle?" she challenged, crossing her arms over her chest. His jaw tightened at her question.

"Both," he spat, not trying to hide the distaste in his voice. "It should be obvious from living here that clairvoyance is rubbish, and the fact that you're even pursuing such a silly path for our _very_ first project is a bit unexpected. Killman will throw a fit when he figures out what we've decided to do."

"He gave us free reign," she reminded, turning back to her work now. She wasn't going to argue the muggle point with him, not when she knew that anything she said would not get past the denseness in his head. She was too preoccupied to have that argument right now. She just wanted to finish her potion so she could test it out and see what happened. Despite Malfoy's distaste for her project, she found the concept slightly fun- and irrational- to explore. She didn't really believe in the medium nonsense, but she did think that her analysis of the situation once the potion failed could be quite intriguing and could get them- well, her- high marks. And when she did do well all alone in this first assignment, perhaps the blonde would think twice about ignoring their workload. As Head Boy he was doing a fairly good job ignoring anything that involved being responsible, like schoolwork and curfew. He was abusing the position more than anything in her opinion.

"I'm not going to put a cork on my imagination and my inventiveness just because you think this is slightly irrational. Since you decided to ignore me for two days instead of simply working with me like you should, I'm not open to listening to your opinions. If you want to work on a project we both agree on Malfoy, try to actually be around when plans are being made next time, hmm?"

Rolling his eyes, he caught sight of that bloody parchment Killman gave them to check off what each person did. Several of the boxes on her paper were already checked, and he knew from experience last night that the approved checks would appear on his paper as well. So far he really hadn't contributed anything, and he knew he would never hear the end of it if his grades in potions started dropping. He couldn't help it; he was simply too sad.

"Fine, let me bloody work then," he growled, snatching a vial of something from her hand. Her eyes widened as he made to dump the whole of the bottle in the cauldron, and she attempted to reach for it but he blocked her.

"Malfoy, don't! That's Angel Extract, one of those _deadly _potions we were always warned to never use!"

He paused with the potion nearly dripping from the bottle, and it didn't calm her nerves one bit. "If it's so dangerous and deadly then why are you bloody using it?"

"Because as eighth years we're supposed to be responsible! And if we blow up our entire common room then we're both going to get our titles revoked, that is if we actually live through the initial explosion-"

"Oh, calm down Granger," he said, breaking his wrist so that the dangling liquid spilled from the tiny bottle, and her arms slackened against him as her eyes widened. "When did bad things ever happen from simply making a-"

The liquid splashed into the cauldron, and they were both thrown back into the couch with enough force that the piece of furniture toppled over as they connected with it, sending both students to the floor as a ray of light shot from the newly created potion. The contact hurt Hermione's back, and she groaned and rolled over on the floor, hiding her face in her hands.

"See what you do!?"

He wasn't responding though, and the very first roar that came from the potion was gone now. None followed, and she began to wonder if only the one blow would come. Slowly uncovering her face, she discovered what had Malfoy sitting so quietly beside her.

A woman appeared from the cauldron, only her torso and head visible above the top. She was cloaked in a fine mist- the same kind of white glow that followed the other ghosts of the castle everywhere. You could no longer distinguish what ethnicity she had once been, or the color of her hair and eyes. She appeared young, not much older than the pair before her. They remained a few feet away on the floor, still shocked at what was sitting before them.

It was Hermione who spoke first. "_Angels' _Trumpet Draught! I never expected the name to be so literal."

The blonde glanced her way, giving her a hard look, as though signaling that she should shut up, but Hermione was too intrigued to be afraid of the woman before them and slowly stood, marveling at the potion she had created by combining just a few things together. "It calls the dead."

"Not all the dead," the woman replied, her voice like silk that slipped around the pair of them, "Merely the single person who might do the most good for the caster. It is a chance spell."

"Chance?" Hermione asked, still awed as she stepped closer. Malfoy kept his distance, eyeing the situation wearily. "What do you mean?"

"As you call it, this Angel's Trumpet Draught can be cast by any person walking this earth, yet the potion can only succeed under the watchful hand of few. Once people cross the boundary between here and the spirit world, deciding to leave this physical realm, there is no way to continue living here. Once in a blue moon you can call upon one of the dead, but only if the situation is correct."

"What situation?" the blonde finally asked, hesitantly getting up to step forward. He had heard stories about situations like this before, bad stories, and he suddenly feared what line Granger had crossed without knowing it. It was fine to dabble in things for fun, but now he wondered what mess she had gotten him into. Childhood horror stories sprouted up in his mind as he stepped closer, and he hoped that the similarities between that situation and this instance were few and far, and did not continue to grow.

The ghost-woman glanced his way, eyeing Draco with a closer eye than she had Hermione, though he couldn't fathom why. "We only appear when great change must be made."

He was afraid she was going to say something like that. "Change? We don't need change here," he replied, masking his emotions, though on the inside he was suddenly very nervous. Reaching out to pull an unsuspecting Granger closer to his side, he laughed nervously. "We're buddies here."

She wiggled out of his grasp, turning to raise an eyebrow at him. "What are you doing, Malfoy?"

"Showing the lady we're friends," he said through gritted teeth, and Hermione's eyebrows drew together. He was beginning to act really strange, and she couldn't imagine why. What was standing before them was amazing, and he shouldn't be acting like this was a bad thing.

"But we're not," she reminded, not picking up on his double meaning. "And what's your name?" she continued politely, looking back at the half woman again as she tuned the man out.

"We do not share our names from the beyond," she said, shaking her head. "It is forbidden. But I know who you are, Hermione Granger, and I see before me exactly why I have been called forth through your potion. Tell me, were you planning to summon someone?"

"No! I mean, it's just a silly school project, and I didn't think it was going to actually work. I was just messing around, creating things out of my own head. I didn't think I would actually make something that's already in creation. It's rather unexpected."

"Yes, it is," the woman replied, eyeing Draco every now and then, who was shifting around nervously. He was really hoping that the stories he used to hear as a child were just tall-tales made up to scare young boys. But with every passing second he felt more and more uncomfortable and wanting to drag Hermione away from the soft voice of this seemingly kind angel. "And this is Draco Malfoy, your roommate."

"Yes," she said, nodding her head. "We're the Heads here together."

"So I see," she agreed, nodding her head between the two. "And you split the duties equally?"

Hermione shrugged, seemingly unfazed by the peculiar question from a complete stranger, who just happened to know their names, Apparently in her book, ghosts could know your name and it wasn't odd. "We do what we've always done, bicker. Things get done, sometimes more by one of us than another. If I made this potion again would another one of you appear?"

"We only appear once for a pair," she said, glancing between them now. "Only where we are needed the most, one in a blue moon. Sometimes we visit those who truly require our service Miss, those who cannot summon us themselves. But for the most part, those of us who continue this livelihood in the afterlife can only visit when summoned, and that is a rare task indeed."

"Task?" she asked, tilting her head. "What task would you have here? I did not conjure you for a purpose- I wasn't even trying to conjure anything!"

"I know," she said, nodding her head. "But sometimes things come about in our lifetimes Miss Granger for a reason. You have conjured me here today for a reason, even if it remains unknown to you, but nothing like this would happen at random. There is chemistry between the two of you that is blocked by a bad aura."

She scrunched up her nose. "There's no chemistry between us, other than that of complete distaste. The only reason we're even together today is because we share a common room, that's it. We're not friends or anything."

"But you have the potential to be," she said quietly, seeming to survey them. "And you will need to be great in the coming months Miss, for what you shall face is not something for the weak-hearted. It will try to break the both of you."

Hermione frowned, glancing towards Malfoy who literally reached out and dared to touch her arm, trying to pull her away. "I'm thirsty Granger, let's get some water." All he could think of at that point was that things were way too similar to his childhood nightmares, and he wanted nothing more than to douse the ghost with water like he had always been told to do, extinguishing the connection.

"Don't be silly Malfoy," she snapped, pulling away from him. "What did you mean it will break the both of us?"

The woman only shook her head, seemingly losing interest as she glanced at Draco, who had been trying to leave the conversation since the beginning and backed away as her eyes bored into his own. "She has not been exposed to this kind of magic, we both see this Mr. Malfoy. And now we both know that it's going to be up to you to turn fix this problem."

He saw it happening before anything really did, saw his childhood horrors appear before he could do anything. The woman moved faster than he could, and even if he had wanted to block Granger it would've done no good. Magic like that always found its target, whether or not there was an obstacle in the way. The magic hit her dead on, throwing Granger back into the sofa again- this time into the base that was facing them- and hit her head on the non-cushioned area. He felt his heart stop briefly, turning back to the ghost-woman with scared eyes.

"You know this magic; she does not. And she will be the one of the two of you to pay. What you can accomplish together could be great, but what you fail to do alone can be done together. Until you learn to work together and agree, you will not help her."

The blonde felt his heart pounding, and without thinking used his wand to shoot a stream of water at the cauldron, dispelling the presence instantly. In her wake the cauldron bubbled over, oozing out some disgusting orange chunks. He decided to ignore them briefly, knowing that they would stain the carpet, and turned his attention back to the fallen witch at his side, rolling her limp body over. Surprisingly, she actually tried to ignore him once, but he forced her over, needing to see the damage.

Rolling her on her back, he gasped as her hands flew to her face, a cry escaping her lips. The cuts were already there, bleeding down her face. He looked away, cursing.

Why? Why did she have to conjure a demon of all things? Now they would really have some problems between them!

* * *

**Long A/n:** Alrighty, so before we get into the nasty "WTF was that?!" nonsense, let's listen to the writers explanation first! The ghost idea came about last chapter, and I was going to do a prophecy but decided that's too traditional and a lot of people have already done that. Most people don't have a strange witch in a cauldron that casts a curse, now do they? So basically, this is where the concept came from:

I was watching "Beauty and the Beast" with my nephew. I kind of got the idea from that. Throughout the story we'll figure out what Draco knows about the situation as well as what it takes to get it to go away, and what the cuts mean. It's basically a twisted version of the fairytale.

I know it's rather strange compared to the rest of the story. But I wanted to do something very different and original. So next chapter we'll see some of the things going through Draco's mind and his knowledge on the matter. Yes, there will still be drug use here. Hopefully, I won't lose all of you before the next chapter appears! I know this one was kind of out there O.o But I kind of wanted it to be.

There's a possibility I want scrap this chapter and write a new chapter 4 because it's very bizarre and it does change the theme of this story quite a bit, or at least some. So we'll see. Your reviews are important this chapter! They will help me decide if this chapter is anything worthwhile or not. But I kind of like it because it is so very different and strange. And I like to make my stories different, intriguing, and interesting, but we'll see. If I do scrap it, I'll post a new chapter 4 and you'll just get another hit that it's been updated again, and that's the new chapter :) If people like it though, then its onward to chapter 5!

So go ahead and shoot me a review on your thoughts ;) And there is a reason why Hermione was the one who got cursed; I'm not just picking on her I promise.


	5. And Researching We Go

**A/n:** Thanks to my beta **divina126**!

* * *

**Chapter 5: And Researching We Go!**

"Granger, you have to get up," he said, tugging on her arms. She remained rooted in her spot on the floor, the blood from the cuts on her face beginning to show beneath her hands. He cursed, crouching down to her level. "Would you fucking move already!? I can't help you if you just sit there!"

She was very apprehensive of moving, seemingly afraid of doing anything. He understood that being magically cut was a bit traumatizing, but she didn't quite understand how very dangerous this was. He needed her to get up and move quickly, lest she continue to bleed. When she rightly refused to get up, he caved and used a levitation spell to make her move instead.

Hermione wasn't too happy about that, and fidgeted in the air, but he didn't worry too much about it just then. Taking her to his personal bathroom, for he knew where everything was, he sat the woman on the counter, who still hid her face.

"I get that it fucking hurts Granger. Trust me; I know a lot more about this than you do, but would you remove your hands? I can't help you if you hide your face."

"What's happening?" she asked quietly, her voice trembling. He scrunched up his face at the sound.

"I told you that this was a bad idea, I was trying to warn you when she appeared," he said, wetting a cloth. "This isn't childish magic Granger; I've heard tales about this shit. It's dangerous."

"And what exactly is it Malfoy?" she asked, still hidden by her hands. He reached up and grabbed one of her wrists, throwing away his complete distaste for the action. First and foremost the bleeding needed to stop, and then he could scream at her for her utter stupidity. Tugging, she finally pulled her hands away to reveal the cuts, and he cursed beneath his breath.

"Fuck Granger, you just had to go and conjure a demon, didn't you?" He threw the wet towel on her face, ignoring her hiss of pain when the towel contacted her skin. Pulling out his wand he tapped the sink again, watching it fill with warm water. In all honesty, he wasn't quite sure what he was doing.

"Demon?" she asked, massaging the towel against the cuts for a moment before she threw it off onto the counter, taking a deep breath as she slammed her eyes shut. "That's what it was?"

"It sounds like an old fairytale my parents once told me at night to scare me," he said, glancing her way. With her hands down he could now see the cuts, sticking out against her pale skin. There were only about four cuts, two just beneath her eyes, one on her left cheek, and the last one dripping from the center of her forehead. He cringed.

"Look, in the fairytale it talks about a demon you can sometimes conjure. They always bring bad luck, and bad news. They will curse the caster with a spell that makes you bleed until a task is complete. What if the task that you've brought upon us is I really don't know, but I assume we'll figure it out soon, if this is anything like the stories I used to hear."

"Task? What are you talking about Malfoy? I'd much rather get the bleeding to stop first before you start speaking gibberish to me."

Frustrated that he even had to explain this to her, he used his wand to heat the water in the sink before moving it to levitate over the cuts. "Look Granger, it's complicated, and it's not something I expect you to understand. Let's at least use a spell to stop the bleeding and conceal those marks before I go any further."

"What do you mean stop the bleeding? Just heal the cuts?" She groaned, placing a hand on her head. "What did you do to me?"

"Oh no, don't you blame me for this. _You're_ the one that made the potion; you're the one that cast it. Don't blame me just because I might happen to know what the fuck is happening. And my assumption might not even be right. Now sit still so I can stop the bleeding and then I'll explain what _might _ be happening. And before you start arguing with me again, no, I can't just heal the cuts, and don't protest about it. I'll explain when this is finished."

Confused and quite uncomfortable with having the blonde so close to her, Hermione sat back and let him press his wand to the cuts, hoping that she wasn't making a big mistake by letting him get so close to her. She didn't trust him one bit, but the cuts were burning, and she wanted it to stop. And then he was going to owe her a big explanation.

Once finished, she felt a bit of relief on her skin. He told her that he was concealing the marks, and only then did he step away and exit the bathroom, telling her that he did not want to have this discussion there. Numbly following him out, she glanced in the mirror and realized that she couldn't even see where the marks were. He'd done a fine job concealing the marks, but she wondered how long they would remain hidden. He hadn't sealed the cuts up.

The living room was a mess now, completely destroyed since the unnamed witch had propelled them both back from the cauldron more than once. Shifting around the different objects, she was a bit unsettled to see him approach the cauldron so confidently, staring at the contents.

"I'm emptying this," he said, levitating the cauldron. "I don't think a return-trip can be done, but just in case it can, I'm getting rid of this." He swept past her towards the kitchenette, and she watched numbly, all her work from the day disappearing down the drain. She knew what she combined to get that to happen, and wasn't concerned about her only version of that potion disappearing because of it. What did trouble her though was whether or not she could actually use that potion for her project. The teacher might not believe them if they presented it, and even if they remade the potion, it might not work again and he would think that they merely played a joke. She wasn't quite sure what to do now.

Malfoy appeared again a few moments later, setting the cauldron down on the floor so he could sit on the table's edge. "What have you done?"

She shook her head, still uncertain about what was going. "I don't know, remember? You owe me an explanation, or at least, you owe me your hypothesis on what you think that was."

He groaned at that, rubbing his head. "Like I said, my idea is based off a fairytale. I don't even know if it has anything to do with what just happened."

"What do you think it is then? That woman seemed pretty confident that you knew what was happening, so why aren't you? It seems that you might've known."

He shrugged. "It was a story about a type of banshee Granger, though it strays from the norm of what a banshee is considered. My parents told it to me when I was young so I wouldn't go tampering with dangerous magic. I don't even know how you created that spell without knowing what you were doing."

"I don't either," she muttered, rubbing the back of her head. "The ingredients just felt right. I must've had the ingredient amounts down exactly."

"Which is strange," he commented, watching her. "That's nearly impossible to do."

"I know."

"In the story, you could only summon it if there was a purpose, though I couldn't tell you what that purpose would need to be. And I don't see a purpose for a banshee appearing now. Usually they bring a task, or a mission, but this one seems to have brought nothing so far. Like I said, something will appear soon enough."

"And the cuts on my face? What about them? Why won't you heal those?"

He groaned, running a hand through his hair. "Well, there's a possibility that no one else can see them."

"_What!?_"

"Calm down, okay? You're not even listening to the entire explanation."

"Malfoy-"

"Hear me out, okay? You are the one that started this whole ordeal. The cuts are there to drive a point home, and get us to fulfill a purpose faster. Whatever the task is that is now set before us, whatever had brought all this about, exists as a timekeeper. If this is the kind of dark magic I'm expecting, then the cuts will grow day by day and more will appear. Overtime, enough cuts will appear that you're going to end up bleeding out."

Her face paled at that. "And… what exactly are we supposed to do about that? I mean, if what you're saying is actually true and it's not a bunch of rubbish."

"Well Granger, if you have a better idea for what just happened, go ahead and speak up. I would just love to hear your idea."

"This isn't funny Malfoy. I'm serious here."

"So am I." He stood from the table, cracking his knuckles. "When my parents used to tell the story, they always said that the only way to break the curse was to fulfill whatever task has been set forth. We might need to actually figure out what it is that spirit expects from us to really understand what's going on here."

She groaned, resting her head in her hands. "Why me?"

"Because you're impatient? If you just waited until I was available to help Granger, this wouldn't have happened."

"I doubt you would've even thought about this assignment until the day before its due. How you ended up as Head Boy is still a mystery to me."

"I might've waited to do the project, but I still would've gotten us a high grade on the first assignment if you just waited for my assistance, _and_ we wouldn't have this dilemma. That doesn't matter now though; there's a bigger problem here."

"I'm aware," she snapped, tapping her foot. "So what now? We can't tell anyone if they can't see the evidence, and unless that spirit decides to reappear-"

"First of all, it's a banshee Granger, _not_ a ghost. The banshee's of this world usually don't have good intentions. They will get you to complete a task for them, be it simple or major, and give out the harshest punishments possible for failure, most often death."

"What would they want?" she asked, still confused as to what was going on. "They want us to fulfill something? So they know what it is they sought of us from the beginning? This isn't an accident then!"

"Nothing's an accident," he replied, rolling his grey eyes. "Things happen for a reason Granger, the end. Now, the spell I put on those cuts should last until at least morning. Thankfully tomorrow is Saturday, and if we perhaps spend a _slight_ bit of time together, we might be able to figure something out."

She nodded, but half a second later her eyes narrowed. "Why do you care to help me? Didn't you just finish saying that _I'm_ the one that's going to suffer and possibly bleed out? She didn't cast any sort of nasty spell on you!"

"That doesn't mean I'm not involved," he rationalized. "If this builds off my childhood stories, then the banshee would not appear unless everyone associated with this task was present, or when no one extra is around. That means that supposedly, this task is meant for just the two of us. So unfortunately, I'm also screwed in this mess."

"So that's why you're pretending to be civil," she huffed. "I should've known that this had to have an effect on you, else you wouldn't bother with me. So how does this affect you then Malfoy? Is your bloody complexion going to break out in hives or something?"

Draco shrugged, seemingly slightly uncomfortable with all the questions. "I honestly don't know, alright? This is a story that was told to me ages ago, and the details are foggy after so many years. It would probably be beneficial to find a book about the story to see if things even match up properly before we compare a real-life event to a fairytale."

"So we should go to the library?" she asked, straightening. "The one place we have access to pretty much all hours of the day since our common room passes through that place? We should be down there looking for something already! We might need to keep quiet, but it's probably worthwhile to jumpstart searching now. Unless this is a dream, it's very serious and although you might not be affected yet by this phenomenon, I am and I would prefer to keep from bleeding too much. Merlin, what will happen if I bleed during class!?"

"Can we worry about that later?" he grunted. "Remember, it's only Friday night. We still have two days to figure out how to handle that."

"Right, two days," Hermione muttered, fidgeting. "I still think we should go searching, and not just on the fairytale side of things, but on this situation overall. Maybe we can figure out what this spirit-"

"Banshee-"

"-wanted, and get this over with even faster. If I want to keep my teacher position, then I better not spontaneously bleed during classes. I suppose your spells won't hide the blood, will they?"

"No," he replied, grateful that she didn't question just how he knew those spells. "And besides, your bloody teacher position should keep us out of trouble, right? I mean, they have to treat you like one of the adults to some extent. You have the title and all, and Merlin knows that I've had to deal with the power behind the title, so perhaps that might keep us out of danger if we do a bit of researching. I agree; the sooner this is over and done with, the better. I have more important things to do than to deal with a bloody task set forth by a dead person."

The brunette nodded, already on her way to the door. "So do I, and preferably I would like to be finished with this whole ordeal by Monday. I won't be setback in my schoolwork just because of a banshee, which we should also search for a book about. Let's just get this over with."

Silently agreeing, Draco got up and followed the woman down the stairs, their wands clasped tightly in their hands. Although they appeared rather collected on the outside, both their minds were swirling messes on the inside. They couldn't believe that they were discussing this nonsense like rational adults, much less that they were okay doing so. The faster they figured out what the hell was wrong, the faster they could discard these ridiculous theories they had circulating between them, and put this entire mess behind them.

It was surreal really, every single aspect of it from the moment that banshee appeared. And the both of them would be ever so happy to find a simple solution to this problem, if it meant that they would never have to handle it again. Given the name of the potion they were playing with, no one would ever suspect that a potion like that would call forth a demon.

And Draco feared that the intentions behind the banshee's appearance could only be bad for them.

* * *

**A/n: **Due to popular demand and my own personal opinion I decided to keep this story as it is, with the strange twist and all. Any comments? They are appreciated since I'm now working the plot out! What task do you think they must complete? A mission to save a life? A dark dead? They must fall in love? Submit any idea you have! Hopefully, something will inspire my creative side and make this story wonderful. Hell, you might even come up with that aw-inspiring idea. So please comment :)


	6. Man-Leg-Decoration

**A/n:** Here's chapter 2! Thanks to my beta **divina126**! **Not yet edited!

* * *

**Chapter 6: Man- Leg- Decoration**

"Do you know this place inside out?" he whispered, following behind the witch as they wandered through the library. She'd collected several books so far from various locations, and was making _him _carry them all. Good thing they could check out as many books as they pleased, or the librarian might have a fit. She had twenty or so books so far that she had handed to him, all of which he shrank down and shoved into his pocket so he could light her bloody way as she continued to search.

"No, I just have a good idea where things are."

"A good idea? You walk us to nearly the perfect location for every item you're looking for every time! You're not even trying."

"Malfoy, I've spent a lot of time in the library over the years actually _reading_, unlike you, so it shouldn't be that surprising that I know what's going on."

He huffed. "Whatever."

Granger was extremely fidgety as they walked, as though she expected the banshee to jump out of nowhere and attack them again. Notably, she'd picked up a book on that subject too. They may as well just take the whole library up to their common room, or just sleep down there at the rate she was going. His pocket was actually starting to get full.

"There, last one," she whispered a few minutes later, handing him one final book. Glancing at the title as he put it away, he realized that it had to do with mythology, and rolled his eyes. She was literally going to explore every avenue, wasn't she? Apparently satisfied with her enormous amount of choices the brunette turned around and headed back to the dorm room entrance.

About halfway there, she tripped, and they both grunted as she caught her balance, momentarily frightened. Both looked at each other half a second later, wondering why their grunts were simultaneous.

"That was weird," she muttered, turning away again. Draco grunted in response, unwilling to say anything. She was right, that was a bit weird, and he was afraid to consider the reasoning behind it. He did say that every banshee came with a purpose and a message, and this could be a side effect to whatever their bloody mission was supposed to be. He really didn't like this situation at all.

They entered the dorm again silently, refusing to speak. The place was still a mess, the destroyed potions and scattered books littering the space, the toppled couch still laying on its back. Hermione groaned, rubbing her temples.

"At least magic helps with this," she muttered, flicking her wand to flip the sofa back in order, flinching at the memory of being thrown into it. Malfoy was standing in her doorway, throwing the books they had just borrowed into her room. She cursed him for his carelessness towards the items, and continued to clean up the mess.

As she was bending to sort out the potion ingredients that spilled on the floor, she felt a sharp pain shoot up her body. Cringing, she groaned, hearing Malfoy release the same sound from not very far away. Well, this didn't seem good.

"I'm going to bed," he said hastily, and she wasn't even up before he got to his bedroom door. "Goodnight, we can talk tomorrow."

"What!? No, you're not going anywhere until you help me clean this-"

"I'm going to bed," he hissed, and she felt another jolt of pain shoot through her again. Strange, considering that she never heard of cuts leaving lingering, shooting pains like that. "Fuck yourself if you think that I'm going to help you with _anything _tonight. This is your fault to begin with; clean your own fucking mess. We'll talk in the morning."

Hermione opened her mouth in protest, but he slammed the door before she could get any words out, leaving the witch in the living room alone, irritated, still having to clean up the bloody mess. And on top of that, she was supposed to clean everything _after_ learning that she was supposedly going to bleed from mysterious cuts every day until they could fulfill their quest… mission… whatever.

Oh, and she had wanted to do some research before things ended up like this. He was really trying to fuck her over, wasn't he?

She groaned again as she got back down on the floor, having only risen on her knees to see the blonde. Now she lowered her head to the floor, agitation and pain building inside of her. She tried to figure out what it might be, but the pain in her head persisted and she was unable to think. It lasted for what felt like hours- but was probably only minutes- before subsiding and she let out a sigh of relief. Well, at last that was over.

But what was that? Struggling to her feet she used the sofa arm for support for a moment, catching her breath. The pain was rather unexpected and particularly unwanted, but she couldn't place where it came from. Shaking off the event as a side effect to the strange things happening, she cleaned the rest of the space in a hurry, laying out all the ingredients and books neatly on the table to be dealt with in the morning. Although she felt content now and didn't have any more pains shooting through her body, she was antsy to actually go into her bedroom and get some research done, preferably before the message about their task appeared. She was still trying to wrap her head around the entire situation.

Hurrying off to her bedroom, she dove under the covers with the intent of reading, burying her face in a book as fast as she could. If she could have it her way, this problem would be gone as quickly as possible and she would be back to avoiding Malfoy as best she could.

But that wouldn't happen until after this mess was figured out, and she didn't intend to waste any more time.

And in the bedroom next to hers, Draco lay contently on his bed, the now empty potion bottle sitting on his table. There was no pain anymore, and he could feel his body calming down. He was in no rush now for tomorrow to come; completely the opposite of Hermione.

* * *

Draco awoke the following morning feeling decently refreshed. It was Saturday, so he should be sleeping in, but some unknown, ungodly force had him wide awake at barely seven in the morning. He shouldn't be conscious before ten. Try as he may, he could not get back to sleep. Giving up, he decided to get out of bed and take a shower. Turning and dangling his legs off the bed, he immediately noticed something; one ankle was heavier than the other. Apprehensively looking over the edge of the bed, he discovered what it was and cursed beneath his breath.

An anklet? Could it be anymore girly? Lifting his leg back up on the bed he pulled at the piece of jewelry, only to feel a slight burn against his skin. Well, that certainly wasn't coming off. He cursed his luck.

_Why me? Why am I stuck with this issue? It has to do with this fucking mission we're receiving, I'm sure of it, but what the hell does an anklet have to do with things?_ He reached up to his head again, feeling a dull pain. Was it really time to take a new batch of the potion already?

A scream interrupted his thoughts, and he was out of his bed in a moment, wand in hand. It sounded like Granger, and he supposed she was screaming because she had discovered their message. But why? Was it written in blood or something?

He felt his chest tighten for some unknown reason as he left his room, though he couldn't fathom why. Seeing that the woman wasn't in the common room or kitchenette area, he pivoted and headed towards her door, rubbing at his chest. He knocked twice on the wood, waiting for her to open the door.

"Granger! Open up! Or are you dead in there?"

No response came, and to distract himself from the silence, he glanced down at the fucking anklet again. He was going to have to ensure his socks covered the blasted thing whenever he was in the Quidditch changing rooms; else he might never live it down. The fact that it was Slytherin green made no difference to him; it was still an offensive piece of jewelry, ruining his manly ankles.

Draco banged on her door again, harder this time. "I wasn't being literal the first time Granger! Are you really dead in there?"

Silence met him once more, and he was beginning to worry that something was actually wrong. They were in this bloody mess together now, and he was certain her death would put a damper on things. Groaning, ignoring the pain in his chest, he reached for the door handle to wiggle it, surprising himself to find that the door was open. Well, all of his insistent writing was really for nothing.

Wandering into her bedroom felt strange, but he quickly disregarded the fact when he noticed the state it was in. For an impeccably neat woman, this place was rather untidy. There were books scattered all across the floor, the bedcovers thrown down with them, and the contents that once lived on her vanity were now scattered across the floor a few feet away. Perhaps it wasn't for being untidy, but from being hasty. It appeared as though everything had been dropped or knocked over.

"Granger?" The bathroom door was shut, and he made his way over, hesitating before he knocked on the wood.

"One second," she called, her voice sounding strained. He glanced away from the door, looking for something to distract himself with briefly. Looking closer at the vanity, he noticed that there were drops of blood on the top. Well, he wasn't very observant that morning was he?

There were a few other drops littering the space between her bed and the bathroom door, and he cursed himself for forgetting about those cuts of hers. Of course that's why she screamed! She probably woke up to blood on her pillow or something and freaked herself out. This was all going to take some getting used to. When it took Hermione more than three minutes to open the door he lost interest and began meandering around her quarters, still searching for something of interest. The tightness in his chest was going away now, and as the door to the bathroom opened he felt his breathing return to normal. The blonde glanced over his shoulder at her.

Her eyes were red, and in the tank top she wore he could see what appeared to be a bruise forming on her chest, showing above the neckline. He cocked an eyebrow, wondering what she had done to herself.

At least her face didn't look bad. If Draco wasn't aware of the strange things going on he wouldn't know anything was wrong with her aside from the redness in her eyes. She'd done a good job concealing the marks, though she looked a bit worn from it.

"There were more," she muttered, pulling her hair lightly as she walked to the vanity, flicking her wand to pick up the items. "Five cuts today. One on my neck."

"I think more appear every day, one by one," he commented, watching the woman. She appeared stricken, and he presumed that it had to do with the situation as a whole. It was a lot to take in at once, but no matter, give the girl a few days and she would bounce back to her normal, perky self. She always did. "Remember, it's a motivator to get the task completed."

"Right," she said, straightening her bed, "Or it's a mechanism to kill someone. I woke up today with blood dripping down my face and on my face. I screamed and jumped out of bed."

He cocked an eyebrow. "You jumped, or you attacked your bedside table?"

"What?"

"That bruise," he said, motioning to her chest. "It didn't just appear out of thin air."

"Oh, right," she muttered. "Well, maybe it had to do with the side table, but that's not the point! The point is that the process is already starting, and although you might favor the idea Malfoy, I have no intention of bleeding to death. So let's find the blasted message, do whatever it wants from us, and get this done and over with. I don't want to wake up bleeding every day you know."

"As if I'm enjoying this anymore than you are," he sneered. "Look, we'll search for it okay? But in the stories I used to hear, it was never a simple task that was set out before anyone. Whatever that banshee wanted, it's not going to be mediocre. It's going to take some time."

"Then let's get started," she spat, irritated. Draco felt the same way, but wasn't just going to stand there and be bossed around. As she stormed off towards the door still in her pajamas, the blonde clad in his own, his eyes latched onto her ankle and widened.

"Do you always wear anklets?" he asked, leaning back against the wall as he put his wand away. She turned back, confused.

"No. Why would I bother?"

His eyes flashed. "And you're not feeling any new pressure on your ankle?"

"No. For Merlin's sake, what are you-" Hermione stopped mid-sentence, tilting her head as she stared down at the anklet, the same red as her house. She lifted up her leg, finally noticing the weight. "What the hell is this?"

"That's what I've been wondering," he replied. "You really didn't notice?"

The woman scoffed. "No, I was too busy fixing my bleeding face!" She pointed to herself, as though to make the statement clearer. Then it dawned on her. "You have one too, don't you?"

"I would never wear anything as girly as an anklet!"

Her eyebrows shot up. "Fine, man-leg-decoration then, are you happy? Now lift your pants up a bit so I can see if there really is one there or not."

"I'm not doing anything for you."

"Would you stop being so bloody difficult?! I'm just asking a simple question! If we both have one, then this could be part of the curse- probably a part we're going to hate- but nonetheless it could be part of it. Now don't you want to fix this as fast as possible and be finished with it? Being a stubborn prick won't speed up the process you know."

Rolling his eyes, Draco swore to kill the woman herself if she ever spoke of this to anyone. Lifting one of his pant legs, he revealed the bloody anklet to her, watching the woman's reacting intently.

She stifled a laugh for a moment before composing herself, nodding once. "Well, that's… eerie. I wonder what it means."

"Yeah, so do I."

"Well, there's one way to find out," she said, tipping her head towards the books. "But first things first; we better figure out where our message is."

He nodded. "I would think that it's here by now," he agreed, following the girl as she exited her bedroom, the both of them currently ignoring the fact that they were still in their sleepwear and began searching for this supposed message.

After about twenty minutes of searching they both felt overly irritated, more so than they probably should've. Draco flopped down on the couch, ignoring Hermione's pointed look as he stared at the neatly sorted potions ingredients and recently cleaned caldron.

"Any particular reason why you left this out?" he asked, lightly flicking the cauldron.

"Well, yes. I was hoping we might actually figure out what to do with your potion project since it is due on Tuesday, not to mention all the other schoolwork there is to do."

He looked her way, giving her a confused look. "You're on the way to an early death and you're still concerned about your grade in potions? Merlin woman, what's wrong with you?"

"If our grades slip we lose our positions," she reminded, searching through a drawer. "It's imperative that everything stays high, especially for me. The second my marks drop people start wondering what's wrong, and as you've already pointed out, we can't logically explain any of this to anyone."

He shrugged. "You're crazy. The old bat would sooner kill me than drop your position, trust me. You've got nothing to worry about."

"Fine, then _I _want to keep my grades up." She slammed the drawer shut in frustration, stomping over to him and stopping beside the couch. "Why the hell is this so difficult to find?"

"It's purposeful," he said, shrugging again. "The woman who brought the message is dead; she's probably building her own entertainment this way. I mean, what else do the dead have to do other than stare down at the living? That sounds awfully miserable."

She rolled her eyes. "You're just peachy in the mornings," she grumbled, glancing at the cauldron as she surveyed the room again before doing a double take. She was bending over the object in seconds, scrambling for her want to look inside.

"What are you-"

"Come here!" she hissed, scooting over so he could see inside. Thinking the woman had actually gone batty for a moment, he stood and peered inside briefly before staring inside just as intently.

"She really wanted to make this difficult, didn't she?"

"Yes," Hermione muttered. "And to think, I was about to take a break and re-wash this. Where would we be then?"

"Well, you would be dead," he said, though she wasn't paying attention anymore. She was too busy staring down at the words in the bottom of the cauldron, the light bouncing off the glossy words.

_With great sacrifice, comes great rewards._

_Release past affiliations to step into the light_

_When joined similarities shall shine through the differences_

_And balance there will be._

_Failure is not an option _

_Lest one suffer from loss _

_And the other joins us_

_But alas, do not be quick, foes hide amidst the innocent_

_All is not balanced; all is not well, within the walls of Hogwarts_

_Uncover the deceit, uncover those lies_

_See the enemies with your own eyes_

_Keep the school clean, keep it pure_

_Do not let dark fiends poison your air_

_Trust is silly, trust is faulty_

_Base this off your opinions already_

_Secrets aside, souls open_

_And the opportunity will arise to save someone broken_

_Carry your pains, carry your cries_

_Lest this be your final goodbye_

They read it twice each, before bothering to glance at one another. The message initially made no sense, consisting of a jumbled set of phrases that didn't even seem to go together. Perplexed, Hermione stood back, thinking the words over again, and Draco went through it once more.

His eyes widened. "Quill and parchment- now!"

"What-"

"Do it!" He scrambled for a sheet of her note paper and she handed him a quill, leaning forward to see what the fit was about as he spelled the quill to write what he read, and she noticed the problem. The message was disappearing, literally vanishing before their eyes. She panicked, glancing at the blonde, but his quick notice of the issue saved the day, and thankfully they had a copy of the message intact. Only a moment later, the message was gone.

"And you complained about me leaving things out," she muttered, sitting down on the chair beside her. He shot her a glare. "Don't look at me like that- without my left out parchment and quills we wouldn't even have that copy right now!"

"It may have also not appeared inside a cauldron," he pointed out, crossing his arms. "Whatever, that's not the point. The fact of the matter here is that we have to decipher this bloody code before we can even begin to fix this problem. She had to produce the most complicated message possible, didn't she?"

"It is a brain teaser," Hermione agreed. "But then, I suppose it wouldn't be a _spiritual_ message if it didn't come with some sort of twist. Having our task given to us inside a cauldron where it disappears after a certain amount of time is not an everyday thing."

"None of this is," he snapped. "Look, I'm not going to do shit until I've eaten something, okay? It's bloody early enough still that we can go down to the Great Hall, grab some food, converse if need be, and be back up here in forty minutes at most, depending on who's down there. I opt that we do that before we delve into the note. Besides, I doubt you're going to actually drop this fucking topic until something is figured out, so lunch is already out of the question I suppose."

"That's what the kitchenette is for," she pointed out. "Fine, we'll go downstairs, if only to prove to people that we're still alive. But let's try to keep it less than forty minutes, shall we?"

He scoffed, setting the note aside. "I'm not promising anything. Bugger off Granger, I want some space for these precious forty minutes. Maybe while we're down there we'll even figure out what these fucking anklets do."

Unable to disagree with that, she sat quietly as he returned to his room, shutting the door a bit loudly. Once she was sure he was gone, she made a copy of the message, just in case something happened to the original version. Slipping into her bedroom, she heaved a sigh of relief. Well, they found the note at the very least.

Now they just had to figure out what it was supposed to mean.

* * *

"He's not being a bother then?" Ginny asked, taking another bite of her breakfast. Seeing as it was so early, she was the only one out of Hermione's actual friends that was awake.

She shrugged, wishing they could discuss something other than her roommate who she was going to end up spending her entire Saturday with. But Ginny, ever the Weasley, wanted to check up on her and make sure things were alright.

"He's fine, really, though I don't know why you're so concerned. If he does anything stupid there's no reason why I can't handle him myself." Hermione glanced past her friends head towards the Slytherin table, noticing that the blonde in question was currently speaking to one of the Greengrass sisters. Merlin, if he had a thing for her there was no way they'd get back upstairs in forty minutes!

But then, if she told the girl that he secretly wore an anklet to make him feel pretty, it might speed up the process, just a bit. She was considering the idea, seeing as they were nearly at thirty minutes and the man seemed to be making no effort to move. He was honestly fantastic at being a pain. About five minutes later though, she saw the pair get up, and tried to watch where he was going without seeming too obvious as the two left the Great Hall. Now there was no telling how long he would be gone!

Outside the Great Hall Draco and Astoria were making a beeline for the nearest empty classroom. As Head Boy he had access to a lot of things, but not to classroom keys. Luckily, they found one that was open not too far away, and slipped inside, easily avoiding people since there were so few up yet.

"They got a new batch in last week," the girl explained, taking off her robe. She laid it across the desk and took out a bottle, presenting it to him. "You're low?"

"My supply is dwindling down, yes," he muttered, eyeing the bottle in her hand. One could last nearly a month now, three weeks if he felt particularly stressed. He only had one more upstairs, and Astoria was the best brewer he knew. "How much?"

"The same as always," she said, crossing her arms. "I suppose I can't interest you in two bottles, can I?"

"I'll just take the one," he replied, feeling his eye twitch. The need to take another small dose was there again, picking at the back of his brain, but he ignored it. The urge wasn't that strong yet. "But don't worry, I'll be returning again."

"You always do," she grinned, stepping forward to kiss him, standing high on her toes to reach his lips. "You know, you can always pay me another way."

"I can't," he said, immediately dashing away any consideration of that. He gave her a shove back, and she pouted as he threw a bag of Galleons her way. "I'll stick to this."

"You know, you didn't used to be so uptight," she muttered. "You used to fuck me whenever I was around. I barely had to ask!"

"Things change Astoria," he said, narrowing his eyes. "I don't have the time for silly flings anymore."

"You don't have the time for anything," she corrected with a sigh, collecting her money. "I know this summer was hard for you, but you could at least write. Daphne was concerned that you might go off the deep end, and when you and Pansy took up Dragon's Brew she really got frightened. Blaise sees the differences in you too, you know. He can tell that you aren't yourself anymore."

"I have a lot to deal with," he snapped. "War does that to people."

She sighed, running her fingers through her hair. "Look, I know it's tough, but you're shutting everyone out. And now you're actually taking my drugs. A year ago, you would've _never _done that."

"Well now I have a reason to!" He turned away, pocketing the bottle. "I need a coping mechanism Astoria, and you have no right to judge what I do. You're the one selling this shit."

"I have to pay off my father's debts somehow," she said, crossing her arms. "He invested so much money into that _Dark Lord Voldemort_ bullshit that we're actually almost bankrupt. It's just me and my sister; we have to survive. She handles the booking, and I earn the money under the table. It's the only way we can think of to dig ourselves out of this hole." She paused, waiting to see if he would say anything. "You're in the same sort of rut you know, Draco."

"Mine's different," he muttered, crossing his arms. "You're dealing with money; I'm dealing with death."

"I have that too," she reminded.

"Yes but, your mother isn't going to have any after effect's from your father's death, and I don't think you will either. Mine is a different story."

"I know," she said, picking up her robes again. "She loved him, in that demented little way."

Draco's jaw tightened. "Yes, she did. Now if you don't mind Astoria, I have some place to be. Good day."

The woman watched him leave, their unspoken agreement keeping her in place. They wouldn't be seen together, lest it give people the wrong idea. She preferred taking orders to peoples rooms and delivering them there, but with Draco it was always so unpredictable. He was one of her very best friends, and she made acceptations like that for him.

But she was scared, so scared for him. Each time they spoke he looked a bit more ragged, worn. And she wondered how much longer Draco could wear down before he broke completely. And that scared her most of all.

* * *

"You're nearly a half hour late," she snapped when he finally made his entrance back into the common room. He barely spared her a glance, making his way to his bedroom to hide the secret inside his cloak.

"I had something that needed to be handled," he replied, shutting the door most of the way as he took the bottle out and slipped it into his usual hiding place. "Don't start bitching- it doesn't seem like you've gotten anywhere!"

"That's not the bloody point!" she yelled back, shaking her head at the man. He really could be intolerable at times, but she knew that her irritation was a bit over the top. She'd been feeling agitated since he left the Great Hall, since about five minutes after she lost sight of him, and couldn't fathom why. Why would she need to be concerned for him? The worst thing that could happen was that he got laid- Hermione stopped herself there, shaking her head. The image was just to disturbing to keep thinking about. Now she needed some mouthwash for her brain to erase that horrid picture. Why did she do that to herself?

He took his time coming back out of his room, which was fine for the moment since she was trying to clear her mind. When he did finally return he seemed a bit calmer, and she felt her agitation melting away as well. Weird.

"So what are you doing?" he asked, feigning interest, but she saw right through his lie. It was a pretty poor attempt after all. "That boring, eh?"

"I don't know what I'm looking for," she admitted, rolling her eyes. "It's not like this is written in a literal sense, mentioning Gryffindor or boys or anything of the sort, it's just a bunch of mismatched phrases that can't really be classified. I completely gave up on that and started reading up on banshees."

"Ah, yes, that will help, even though we'll never see that damned ghost again!" He ripped the book out of her hands, tossing it onto a nearby chair. "Why can't we focus on the big picture instead of useless tidbits like that."

"Well gee, I don't know, maybe because I don't know where to start!" She shoved his copy of the note back in his direction. "Why don't you look at it and tell me what you think it means. I can't even begin to tell you."

He scanned the note over, stopping only a few lines in. "There, that's all about what happens if we don't get this right." She glanced where he was pointing.

"_Failure is not an option, lest one suffers from loss and the other joins us_? You picked the simplest part of the message! Of course that's obviously about us! And I'll be the one who joins them if we can't get this right."

Draco threw his hands up. "Well fine, don't accept my attempt to help. I thought you wanted me to look at the note."

"I was hoping you would try to decode something more challenging," she muttered. "Obviously, that was a mistake since you don't want to actually put some effort into figuring this out. Just remember, if I die, you're the very first person I'm coming back to haunt."

He shook his hands. "Oh, I'm scared now. Just calm down Granger and go back to your little reading would you? I'll read it again."

"Sure you will," she muttered, shoving her face deeper into the book to avoid confrontation when he looked back up. They fell into silence, both trying to decipher very different things.

"_Release past affiliations to step into the light. _Sounds like it wants us to be better people."

"No, it wants _you_ to be a better person," she corrected. "I've never been anywhere near as cold as you. That's all on you Malfoy."

"Affiliations refers to interactions with people," he reminded, "That involves two people accepting each other, Circe forbid. That means it's both of us, but if it expects that to happen, then this entire ordeal is shit out of luck. We're simply never going to get along."

"Well it doesn't help that you're shooting down the idea before it can even be considered," she sneered.

"Oh come on Granger! You don't actually think that's possible for us, do you? We've known each other for eight years now and we've never gotten along. A fucking note from the beyond isn't going to change that."

She threw her book down at that, glaring at him. He took an interest and met her eyes. "No, a note might not change things, but the fact that my life is at stake might. _That_ would at least prompt me to try and tolerate you."

He said nothing and she snatched her book up again, returning to her reading. Briefly he felt a surge of anger there, and was a bit alarmed to admit it. The anger was not his own, and he knew that.

_Well shit. _

Draco was really, really, _really_ hoping those anklets didn't connect them together or something. He was really hoping that wasn't the case. But unfortunately, the more he thought about it, the more it made sense.

* * *

**A/n: **A new chapter lovelies, and for once, it's early! Shoot me a review letting me know what you thought! And also, about what you think that message entails.

**At** A Dear Reader, Daninicole86 and myshrinkanditalkaboutlove I'm thinking about incorporating some of your ideas/ already have. Thank you for the ideas, reviews and submissions!

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	7. Accused by the Man

**A/n**: Thanks to my beta **divina126**! **Not yet edited. Enjoy!

**Chapter 7: Accused by the Man**

"Have you figured anything out?"

"No, you?"

He groaned, falling back against the couch. They'd been at it all day, reading words that rang hollow in their heads. They didn't know what they were following, or what to really search for. It all revolved around them somehow, but they both had such different interpretations of the matter that neither of them knew where to begin.

"_Lest this be your final goodbye _has to be about me," she muttered, throwing the book to the side. "Sounds like I'm going to die a horrible death if we fail."

"Probably," he agreed, rubbing his chin. "It might help if we could locate a version of the fairytale to refer to. Then we'd know if we're even on the right track."

"I'm not concerned about that!" she spat, getting up to pace. "I'm concerned about losing my life!"

He held up his hands. "Yes, most people put in this situation probably are. You're certainly not the first person to get stuck like this, else tales like this wouldn't exist."

"Oh really? I never even thought of that!"

"Quit being bitter," he grumbled, "It's not going to help the situation. The less we work together the longer it is going to take to get this done and over with."

"I know," she grunted, ignoring him. "What else is there to do?"

"We have to write a paper on why the fucking potion failed."

Finally looking his way, she raised an eyebrow. "You really think it's practical to use that combination as our final project for this assignment?

"I think to come up with something else in two short days and get a paper done for a half-arsed attempt is useless. We have a potion already, one that I'm certain can't be replicated, so why waste it? We can just write about why it failed and be on our merry way. At least that'll get one batch of homework out of the way."

"Yeah, once we write it," she reminded, crossing her arms again. "Which is totally your responsibility."

"Are you crazy? I already wasted half of my Saturday around you, why would I waste more time to write a lame paper for a teacher I can't stand? You do it, you were the one so concerned with the grade in the first place that you did it without me. It's not as if I would really know what to write anyway since I wasn't even here."

"Oh, how hard on you," she mocked, rolling her eyes. "Look, I've already checked in everything I did. The same check-list is copied onto your sheet. Since I can't lie on it, the teacher already knows how much work I put in. The rest is up to you."

"I'm not wasting the rest of my Saturday in here!"

"Fine, write it tomorrow for all I care. But you better write it. Because come Sunday night there will be hell to pay if you've completely ignored it. The rest of this project might be up to you, but that doesn't mean I actually trust you to do it! That being said, I'm going to find my friends."

"_Excuse me_!? I thought you were panicking about dying!"

"You think I'm not Malfoy?" she spat. "Well, I am. I'm terrified. But sitting here with you isn't getting us anywhere, and if I'm going to lose my mind I'd rather do it around people who actually care about me."

"And what are you going to tell them when you start panicking?"

She shrugged, already making for the door. "I don't know Malfoy, but at least I won't do it around you." She was out the door before he could respond, and he only quirked an eyebrow once she was gone. Well hell, she was definitely worked up about this whole ordeal, even if she was trying to not show it.

* * *

Tuesday morning came all too soon and the pair found themselves back in potions, their paper on the Angel Trumpet Draught sitting between them. The entire class had a paper, and after questioning several of her friends as to whether or not they had anything strange happen while experimenting, the pair came to realize that they were the only ones who had some paranormal results. But they were turning in a paper like everyone else, keeping the reality of their potion to themselves.

Hermione stopped screaming in the mornings as of Monday. She was accustomed to the trails of blood now, although she did try to wake up early on Sunday and see them sprout across her skin. It never worked though. They wouldn't appear until she was asleep, and if she woke up early it was as though her body could sense it and she was already bleeding, no matter how early her alarm was set. Draco simply refused to watch her sleep and examine the blood spots appearing, so that option was out. All she wanted was to study them.

The spots were now appearing on her shoulders and neck, more arriving each day. He walked in on her covering the spots up with his spell when he heard a thud, and when he saw her on the floor. He briefly thought she was dead. She was beginning to lose a lot of blood, what with the time it took to heal the cuts. Hopefully, she'd survive until they figured out how to do this, else discover a better pattern to keep blood in her.

Skillman collected their assignments, pausing at each desk to ask the students if they worked well together and what ingredients they used. Everyone was chatting, save for the two heads. Even though there were people nearby that they could chat with, the two opted to remain silent. They had enough going on in their heads, like the minimal amount of success they'd had in decoding the message. It was frustrating to say the least.

"I'm supposing the pair of you had no luck either discovering something for the purpose of the Angel's Trumpet Draught," Skillman said, finally arriving at their table. They shook their heads, remaining silent. He picked up their paper, scrolling to the final page where students were supposed to list their ingredients used, and his eyebrows shot up.

"Nothing happened due to this combination?" he asked, peering between the two again.

"No," Draco spat, eyeing their teacher, who only inclined an eyebrow.

"The two of you stay after class today," he said, placing their paper at the bottom of his pile, "I'd like to talk further with you."

"Of course." Hermione said, replying before he could jump in. She knew Malfoy couldn't stand this teacher, that he'd stolen things from them, and she didn't want to chance having him say something. Once the man had moved on to the next pair, she turned and glared at the blonde. "I told you it was a bad idea to use that combination!"

He rolled his eyes. "You don't even know if that's the reason. Our checklists are at the end too; he's probably just going to bitch about how little work I did."

"I hope so," she grumbled, "I don't want to explain the combination to him."

"Just make something up. Everything is experimental. It's not like anything people made today is already developed. We'd probably lose serious marks and possibly be removed from the class if we plagiarized."

She huffed. "And what if we did accidently plagiarize? I did end up conjuring something that you said reminded you of a childhood fairytale."

"I doubt that half-arsed teacher has even heard of the fairytale," he grumbled. "I bet you he has no idea that combination conjured a spirit. Besides, he can't figure anything out since the banshee won't come back. Stop stressing out Granger; he can't prove anything."

"I hope you're right," she replied, resting her elbows on the table in front of her. If he was wrong then this day might get worse and worse.

* * *

Skillman was rather persistent about talking to them later after class. When Draco tried to book it he delivered a detention to the both of them later that night, cleaning the potion closet. Hermione was rather sore about that, as she wouldn't be able to do any research or hang out with her friends now, and it was all his fault.

"How did you come across this combination?" the teacher asked when they were finally situated front of his desk. He tapped his fingers on the wood, eyes peering between the two.

"I made it up," Hermione snapped, offended that he was accusing her of the exact thing she'd been fearing half an hour ago. "It was _my _combination! We didn't steal anything."

"I beg to differ," he replied, flicking his wrist. A book picked itself off the shelf, levitating over to them trio. It landed, opening to a specific page facing the two. Skillman pointed to a paragraph, eyeing the pair. They leaned forward and looked at the page he indicated.

_To create the Alorora Potion, use the following ingredients…_

Hermione's eyes widened as she took in the list, bolting straight up when she'd finished, several seconds ahead of Draco. "I didn't copy anything! I just mixed things together, I didn't… I didn't know that it was real!" She shook her head. "How can it be? What's the Alorora Potion? If it's real, why didn't anything-"

"It's not the fact that you've copied another's work Miss Granger," he said, holding up a hand. "It's the fact that you're saying this potion has no purpose. It's the fact that you didn't write down the proper purpose of it. You're not expected to know every potion in existence, so if you do manage to create something there's a system in place to keep from getting you in trouble. I would just rename it on the assignment and tell you that it is already something in existence."

"What's the difference for us then?" Draco asked, crossing his arms. "If everyone else just gets a name change then what's different for us?"

"You didn't even tell me what the potion does!" he snapped in response, as Hermione began to study the potion list again. "Which means you didn't even make the potion. It's supposed to be a calming draught; it draws all the negative thoughts into the mixture. Granted, this is a bit extreme, considering that this is usually used for drug rehabilitation, but nonetheless you didn't even tell me what it does! You just said you threw these ingredients together and more or less had nothing happen."

Hermione glanced up then at the blonde, thinking this was all his fault considering that he wrote the paper. She was a fool for letting him handle the report. "Sorry, there was supposed to be-"

"Don't give me excuses Miss Granger," he said. "Neither of you even tried on this assignment."

"How would you know?" Draco asked, cocking an eyebrow. "You saw us two days a week and left everything up to our interpretation. You have no way of knowing how much effort we put into things."

"When you turned in a half-arsed report and mediocre spell that doesn't even have an analysis of what it really does I can safely assume that you stitched this together at the last moment," Skillman snapped. "I don't need your attitude Mr. Malfoy. Perhaps if you spent the time to do something instead of leaving a large chunk of it up to Miss Granger, the two of you may have done better. But I will not sit back and watch you make a mockery of what I assign you. As the Heads, and you as a professor Miss Granger, I expect so much better. The two of you should be discovering things that most of us can only dream about figuring out."

"You'd be surprised," Draco grumbled, rolling his eyes. Hermione was still reading the potion list, going through it for a third time.

"Professor, there's been a mistake," she said, interrupting the man before he could speak. "We didn't use-"

"Miss Granger, save your excuses. I'm not interested in hearing about it. The two of you skimmed over this assignment, that's the bottom line. As punishment, you can spend every night of the next month cleaning this dingy room. The prior teacher didn't keep anything clean." Hermione could see Malfoy's hands tightening at that, and decided to not say anything about it, at least not right then.

"But-"

"No butts," he said, standing from his seat. "Enough with your excuses. We can't just let the pair of you slip by like this. You earned your positions, now learn to keep them. You'll have a two-hour detention tonight, and from this point on it'll be one hour. When I'm not around you'll serve them with Filch. This behavior will not be tolerated."

Hermione threw her hands up. "Are you crazy!? We didn't do anything-"

"Five points from Gryffindor," he said, hardening his gaze. "It's best that you learn from this experience and try to not repeat it. Next time, the punishment won't be quite so light."

"This is light?!" Draco asked, looking appalled. "I was caught after curfew for years repeatedly and the worst I ever got was a day of detention! But a month for someone who isn't ever here for something you're misinterpreting? This is why I hate this fucking school."

"I'll lock you into detention longer for vulgar language Mr. Malfoy," the teacher replied, looking between the two. "Now, get on to your next class before you're late. Tonight you can come back and clean the potion closest as scheduled. And don't take anything because I promise, I will know."

"I'm not-"

"Goodbye Mr. Skillman," Hermione said, cutting the blonde off. She pulled him away before he said anything more, afraid that he would really make their professor mad. The man protested as he was pulled out, but she didn't lessen her grip on him until they were outside the room and the door was firmly shut. Then she turned back to him, eyes wide. "He's making this whole thing up! That list he showed us is altered you know. There's an extra ingredient!"

He cocked an eyebrow. "You read it that in depth? What on earth for?"

"I wanted to know why he said I was making this up. In reality he isn't even talking about the same potion, considering that we both know that it wasn't meant to be calming when it actually brought about a banshee. He's playing us."

"I noticed."

"For now we should just listen and go to our classes," she grumbled, stepping away from the door. "Tonight when we go back we'll take a look at that book again."

"How is that going to help us? Reading a spell isn't going to help get us out of this situation."

"No," she said, already stomping down the hall. "But I'm going to make a point to him that I didn't half arse that assignment! No one accuses me of doing a shitty job on my work."

He rolled his eyes, following her down the hall. Oh of course, she was talking about their pathetic grade. He couldn't wait to see what she would do on this next assigement, and this time they only had a week. Why did he have to end up paired with her again.

They didn't speak as they parted ways. They'd be spending plenty of time together that night, in a long detention cleaning a closet. Oh, he could only imagine how much ranting she would do on their grade. At least by then, Skillman would be gone, so he wouldn't have to listen to an argument at least, thank Merlin.

* * *

**A/n:** Here's chapter seven! :) I'm having a lot of fun with this story if you can't tell. Go ahead and shoot a review this way! And we'll look into that potion bit in the next chapter.

Don't forget that you can still follow the link on my profile page to the leukemia site and place a donation! Ever donation helps and you even get to read some awesome stories! Come on, how can you say no to that?


	8. Scaring the First Years

**A/n:** Thanks to my beta **divina126**! Not yet edited.

_Chapter 7 has been replaced with the correct chapter._

* * *

**8. Scaring the First Years**

"This closet is filthy! When was the last time someone cleaned it?" He wrinkled his nose, tossing an expired, rotten ingredient to the side that could no longer even be identified.

"I would imagine back when Snape was still the teacher," Hermione replied, looking through things. "No one else seemed to take quite as much pride in their cleanliness. If he was OCD about anything it was about the closet arrangement."

Draco said nothing to that, and she peered back up through her brunette locks to glance at him. His jaw was tight and his eyes were looking off away from her, his body rigid. Basically, he'd gone very tense. She could feel that in her very soul, which was unnerving. Deciding to drop the topic right then since he got so peculiar every time Snape was mentioned, she continued to sort through the closet, working as quickly as possible to get to her actual reason for being there, or at least the reason why she was so enthusiastic. The book Skillman supposedly found her potion in and had a fit over sat on the bookcase beside his desk, just waiting to be opened. The faster she finished this, the faster she could look at that, and the faster Malfoy might stop bitching.

Well, the third one probably wouldn't happen, but it was nice to dream.

They met up there at the designated hour as expected, Filch standing by to make sure that they actually arrived. He would return when they finished, like a babysitter, and make sure the job was done. Obviously the new potion teacher had no confidence in the head students of Hogwarts.

"Are we done yet?" he groaned, magically moving things back onto the shelves, "I really need to get back to the room."

"And you think I don't?" she grumbled, eyeing him. "You sound like a whiny little kid."

"Granger, I don't wine. I merely remind you of what I want to be doing, often. That's not whining, its informing."

"Oh, whatever," she snapped, turning away as they finished their job. "We still have forty minutes as it is. So instead of just standing around, let's actually do something productive."

"You want to look at that fucking book, don't you?" he grumbled, watching as she took off towards the desk, headed directly for the shelf. "I should've known."

"You did know," she replied, reaching for the book, "We discussed this-"

She jumped back from the book as something zapped her and she gasped, the brief pain shooting up her arm. Shaking her limb, she attempted to bring feeling back into it after being stunned like that. Draco felt the jolt as well, and narrowed his eyes.

"Strange," he grumbled, eyeing his own arm, his eyes dancing back to Hermione every now and then. She frowned at this, but didn't focus on him for too long.

"What are you grumbling about now?" Hermione asked as she pulled her wand out, flicking it once.

"Oh nothing," he grumbled in response. The barrier between her and the shelf disappeared quickly enough, letting her reach the object of her desire.

"If he wanted to really keep people away from the bookshelf, he did a pretty crappy job of it," she remarked, looking around as she picked up the specific book. "It's a bit odd."

"He was probably just hoping you- or whoever he's actually guarding that rubbish from- was deterred by it."

"Again, Malfoy, he didn't do the best job."

"Fine then, he did it to piss you off," the blonde spat, rolling his eyes. "What are you looking for exactly from me? I don't know his damn motives."

"I don't know," she huffed, rolling her eyes at him. He was in an awful mood, and kept scratching at his skin. It was getting on her nerves, and she couldn't wait for the forty minutes to be up so she could have some space from the blonde. Even if they needed to work together about that banshee problem, she still couldn't tolerate the blonde twenty-four seven, and she was certain he couldn't either. Setting the heavy tomb on the desk she flitted through the pages, searching for something of relevance. He cocked an eyebrow, surprised that she could read anything that quickly. It would give him a headache to do so.

"Here," she remarked, and he wandered closer, curious to see this list. She was so insistent that he made a mistake, and Draco couldn't deny that it seemed possible. This was not the same book he'd seen as a child, and found it difficult to believe that a potion from a _fairytale_ was worthy of ending up in an actual potion book. Someone would surely have noticed the issue with that when publishing it, right?

They were both quiet for several moments, staring at the page before them. Neither read the potion list, for they were both too distracted by the contrasting papers. Draco was the first to move, reaching forward to pull the additional piece of paper away. The potion list had been inserted, baldy placed in the book by a poorly done sticking charm, covering up a different potion.

"It's not even part of the book!" she cried, slamming her hands on the desk. "He _put_ it in there!"

"Or at least someone did," the blonde agreed, studying the spell below the formerly attached sheet. "I wonder why anyone would bother."

"Because he couldn't remember the extensive list by heart," she seethed, crossing her arms. "And he tried to call me a fraud! Well, at least I put forth some effort. He stuck a piece of paper inside this poor book and tried to pass it off as actually being a part of it! I bet he just copied my original list and stuck it in there!"

"Why didn't it look this way earlier?" the man wondered, tapping his lips. "Surely if the contrast between papers was so distinct you would've noticed earlier when you read over the list."

She shook her head. "There's was probably a spell cast over it to make the pages look alike. It obviously wasn't meant to last though if it's so obvious now. But why did he bother saying we lied and half-arsed our first assignment if he had to forge something to prove it with? He seems to be making more work for himself than anything."

"Fair question," Draco agreed, looking around the room. "It is a puzzle."

Hermione tapped her lip, seemingly thinking over what they just said. Her other hand sat on the desk, her fingers tapping the wood. Several seconds later she looked up at the blonde and grinned. "I think I figured part of it out."

"Excuse me? I thought we were just discussing how irrational this was!"

"No- not about this. About our little note. Remember, it mentioned uncovering the deceit and lies of someone? Well, maybe our professor is the liar."

He cocked an eyebrow. "Okay, that's possible, but then it also mentions an enemy. I am not the biggest fan of that bloke, but I don't know if he's necessarily an enemy. He's a problem, yes, and a nuisance for sure, but an enemy? I don't know Granger."

"It's possible," she mused, crossing her arms. "At least that's the only new lead we have on the matter. Look, all we can really do is wait until tomorrow and see what happens. We might even do a bit of questioning."

"You think it's smart to question our teacher about yelling at us for a spell we supposedly copied due to evidence found from a book that we weren't supposed to open? Oh, splendid idea Granger! And where exactly will that get us? I'll tell you- he'll probably go on a long rant about how bloody disrespectful we are, he'll report us to the old bat and we'll get into a bunch of trouble over something we don't need to be snooping into. It's not like he's out to get us, he just detests us, a lot."

"He's blaming us for something we didn't do," she muttered, glancing around. "And he has no reason to do so. If this really existed in a book he would have no reason to copy it down and stick it in another, but would just have the actual text. Something about this isn't right, Malfoy."

"You're over thinking things," he muttered, waving a hand. "It's an assignment, get over it. We'll just do better on the next one."

"And if he pulls something like this again? Do we just let that slide by too?"

He threw his arms up, refusing to wince as he did so. "Fine! Look, if it happens again we can confront him and stand up for all the bookworms out there who get stepped on, okay? But why don't you just drop it? Chances are this won't happen again."

"And if it does?"

"Then we'll handle it then! Fuck Granger, can you be any more annoying?" He shook his head, glancing at the clock. "Oh, thank Merlin, times up. If you want to bitch any more about your grade Granger, find someone else. I have absolutely no intention of speaking to you the rest of the night. I have my own homework to worry about, and sleep to obtain. So kindly leave me alone."

"Malfoy-"

"I told you I have no intention of conversing with you!" He stormed out of the classroom, the door swinging on its hinges several times before shutting. She sighed as he left, rolling her eyes. He had a temper that could level with Ron's. Replacing the book on the shelf quickly, she took the bit of paper with her. She would use it for leverage if this ever came up in discussion with the potions teacher again.

As she wandered towards the door Filch peered in, apparently checking to see what she was up to. She strutted past the man without batting an eye, having handled him enough in the past to know that she should just ignore him. As she walked away she could hear him locking the door.

Something still didn't sit right with her though. As she wandered back towards her room, she got the feeling that everything wasn't so clean cut. Something was up with Skillman, she was sure of it, and she intended to figure out what. But for now she was more concerned with getting back to the room and regrettably, getting some sleep. Pain was beginning to pick at her, but the origin was unknown to her. Aside from the cuts in the mornings, she didn't really have any pains.

* * *

"They're all brats," Ginny hissed, sitting beside her brunette friend the following morning as they waited for the ten minute bell for passing periods to start. Ginny along with Ron and Harry decided to come and keep her company in her classroom that morning, considering how she had to be present so early to open the door, let children in, and sit there while they sneered her direction. At least that morning she had some people there to help her, even if the children were just as rude with her friends present.

"And the older they get the brattier they are," Hermione grumbled, elbows propped on the desk. She'd been feeling ill that morning after waking up to the blonde and actually stumbled and fell over while closing the cuts up. Malfoy found her and assisted getting her to stand, but the reality of it worried her. Was she losing so much blood already that she was going to begin to faint, or was she merely too distracted and lost balance that morning? She sincerely hoped it was the latter. "Sixth hour is just awful."

Ron pat her back. "Don't let them get to you," he said, glancing at the students, "They're just Slytherin's after all."

"Hey I resent that comment!" came the cry from a little black-haired boy, pointing a finger in their direction. "I'll have you know Slytherin is the best house out there and the only one to be proud to be in!"

Several of his classmates second the small boy, their prejudice minds working together. The brunette groaned and dropped her head on the desk, willing their voices to go away.

"You started something," Harry grumbled, looking out at the children. Many of them reminded him of Malfoy due to the way they acted, and he shuddered at the thought. The last thing the world needed was more Malfoy's prowling around.

"I see," his ginger friend replied, squatting down at Hermione's side. "I'm sure it'll get better throughout the period, really. They're only eleven, and sure to find something else to preoccupy themselves with."

"Or they will continue this way through the rest of the class and annoy the hell out of me," she retorted, groaning louder as the bell for class rang. "And now all of you are going to leave me."

"We'll come visit tonight," Ginny offered, patting her friends hand. "It'll be fun! We can annoy Malfoy while we're up there."

"He's not as fun to irritate as he was before," she grumbled, rubbing her temples as she sat up. "I'll come see you instead in the Gryffindor common room. I'd love to get some space from him for a bit."

"Whatever you want Hermione," Harry replied, giving her a quick squeeze as he walked by. "I'm certainly not arguing- I like to avoid Malfoy as much as possible."

"So do I Harry," the woman said, standing from her seat to lean on the desk, knowing she would need to address the unruly class in a few minutes, "So do I."

Her friends departed after that, needing to get on towards their classes. She reluctantly faced the class as the warning bell rang, dreading this first class. Her head was already beginning to thump. Today just seemed like it was going to be bad no matter what.

* * *

"You don't think Trelawney is going to throw a fit even though we're late?" Blaise asked as they wandered down the hall, nearly twenty minutes late for their first class. Draco had been in dire need of some of his Dragon's Brew, and despite his friends protests he dashed up to his room and took a quick dose, ignoring the Italian's disapproving looks. Who was he to judge? Blaise's life couldn't be more different than Draco's nowadays, and the blonde often pinned that on his friend, something the man didn't enjoy.

"She'll probably predict that we're going to get expelled for being so late because we were participating in dangerous activities or some other rubbish," Malfoy replied, waving a hand as they walked. "Although she might be right, it isn't anything to worry about, and you very well know that. Quit worrying. Divination is a bullshit class anyway."

"Don't remind me," Zabini grumbled. "I still can't believe I signed up for it."

"You were just hoping you'd have it with Pansy," he reminded, wiggling his eyebrows as they walked. Blaise scoffed and looked away, but Draco knew the truth. "Too bad she takes it during fifth."

"Yeah, too bad. Now I'm stuck taking it with you, and you're no fun at all."

"Nonsense, I'm plenty fun, especially when I'm making fun of that crazy lady. I can't believe she thinks she's honestly making sense."

"Or when you're tripping because you don't have enough poison in your system?" The pair halted, Blaise's comment cutting through their lighthearted conversation.

"Must you always bring this up?"

"Draco," his friend warned, "You need to quit, both you and Pansy."

"And the Greengrass'?"

"They sell that shit Draco, there's no way they will just stop. It's paying their families debt from the war, and I'll be damned if they're going to stop halfway to being debt free. But that's not the point! You're in too deep, and you need to pull yourself out. They have other clientele elsewhere who they charge quite a bit more, and they can manage just fine without your business, or Pansy's. You're already addicted as it is, and you're just going to continue to hurt yourself the longer you are on it."

"You sound like my fucking mother."

"That is if you're parents actually knew what you're getting yourself into? I'm just trying to look out for you Draco, both of you, since you two are so lost in your addiction. Do you even realize how hard it's going to be to quit at this point?"

"Who said anything about quitting?" the blonde spat, eyeing his friend.

"You did," he replied, crossing his arms, "Less than three weeks ago. You and Pansy both promised to get off this downhill track, and the next day she almost overdosed. If nothing else, you haven't gotten quite that stupid yet. If Daphne hadn't been around in the common room at the time and snuck her off upstairs to help I would've been saving her life right there, and you know how many rumors that would start. The old bat would have the teachers investigating the entire Slytherin Dungeon to find drugs, and you would be the only one overlooked. She should count her blessings that she's still alive."

"She does Blaise."

"Right," Zabini snapped sarcastically, "Just like you do? You're not going to be out of the woods until you quit this shit."

"I need it to cope," Draco growled quietly, thankful that everyone was already in class, "You know that. Pansy needs it for other reasons."

"Pansy's suicidal," Blaise spat, getting in Draco's face. "All they do for her is skewer her sense of reality and push her further into depression. Someday its going to push her over the edge Draco, and she really might take her life."

"You wouldn't let that happen, neither would I. Or Daphne, Astoria, or Theo. No one's going to let her off herself."

"Perhaps not, but there's lots of lonely hours between midnight and six," Blaise reminded, glaring at his friend. "Lots of time to contemplate life or death. She could drown herself in the bathtub in the morning before anyone could stop her. My point, Draco, is that she will stop if you will, and you both need to. She's almost over the edge, and you're slowly beginning to lose your cool. The more you take, the higher your tolerance is. That one bottle Astoria sold you isn't going to cut it for long."

"You don't know anything!" he spat, leaning closer to his friend. "You don't even take it. You don't know what it can do for you."

"Thank Merlin I don't! And I may not know what it can do for you, but I sure as hell know what it can do _to_ you."

Draco growled before pursing his lips, attempting to calm down. If they got too loud they might attract unwanted attention, and that really wouldn't go over well if the discussion was concerning drugs.

"Look, Pansy doesn't follow me like a puppy anymore; she's too old for that. Her mind is in pieces, and she uses the potion to cope. She's not going to change just because I do."

"But she might," Blaise argued, desperation peeking through his voice.

The blonde sighed. "I'm sorry Blaise, but what I do won't matter. She's still going to make her own choices, even though they tend to be irrationally stupid."

The Italian glanced away, seemingly lost in thought for a moment. "Let me bring her up to your dorm tonight."

"What good is that going to do?"

"Astoria is making deals around every corner," he muttered, "And she keeps feeding Pansy her poison. She says it's because Pansy is a paying customer, but I know better. She sees the end of the tunnel ahead of her, the road to being out of debt and possibly heading towards the land of the rich again, and she's enticed. She just doesn't want to admit that she's killing her friend in the process."

"I wouldn't really call Astoria and Pansy friends," Draco replied, cocking an eyebrow. He reached up and rubbed his head, feeling an explosive headache coming on. "Pansy and Daphne, certainly, but Astoria and Pansy have never really gotten along. Maybe it's because Pansy and Daphne are so tightly knit, I don't know, but they don't really come off as being friends, do they?"

"That's why Daphne is never the one to sell her the drugs," Blaise muttered.

"Look, we need to get going," the man replied, looking around. "We're already pretty late, so we can either not go or come up with an excuse as to why we're late."

"You're disregarding the topic," Zabini pointed out. "We both know that Pansy's going to try and buy more, and after how shaky she was at breakfast I'll be surprised if she makes it through first hour without having a fit. She just needs to get away from it tonight, and she unfortunately can't come up the boy's side of the Dungeons or I'd just have her sleep with me."

"Oh, I know," the blonde agreed, rubbing his temples. The headache from hell was getting fairly bad, and he couldn't really figure out why. "But you forget I have Granger as a roommate. Even the slightest hint that Pansy is on drugs and she'll go running to the old bat to report it. That seems like an even worse situation."

"I'll brign her by right before curfew when Granger is likely to be engulfed in her books. Draco, Pansy really needs you right now, all of us. She needs to get out of this, just like you. You're bad, but fuck, she's slipping. She just can't handle her memories."

"I can't either," Draco groaned, running his fingers through his hair. He very well knew that Granger would not be asleep anytime soon that night since they had the bloody curse ordeal to handle, but didn't want to throw that out there. Plus, she would likely throw a fit if she saw Pansy in the common room just sleeping away on the couch.

Then there was the fact that her flesh just spontaneously bled in the mornings. He didn't think it would help anyone's sanity if Pansy saw that when she woke up. It all sounded like a very bad idea.

But he knew Blaise was right. Pansy was deeper into the hands of the Dragon's Brew than he was, and she suffered the consequences of overusing the drug. It was obvious that Zabini cared for her quite a bit, but she was so lost in her own sorrows and depression that she couldn't even notice him. It was sad to anyone who knew the story how lost Pansy was, and how in love Blaise was. But she was too out of it to realize that he cared for her as anything more than a friend. And despite that, he was trying to be helpful and put her up in a good place for the night. They were all trying to avoid being found out and having to go to rehab and a mental clinic, and Pansy was the likeliest to end up there by that point. Draco was no fool though, and knew he was slowly working his way there.

Damnit, Blaise was blackmailing him through guilt, guilt towards how lost Pansy was. They all took the blame for her evolving insanity. Draco wasn't okay with feeling guilty under any circumstances about anything.

"Fine," he grumbled, ignoring the smirk that lit up the bloke's face. "She can sleep on the couch while Astoria goes on a selling frenzy. She'll be lucky if someone doesn't let the information leak and get her expelled."

"I'm expecting something like that will happen," Blaise said, sighing. "She doesn't think too much about who she is selling to, unlike Daphne. Daphne is very careful about who she sells to and when."

"I know," he grumbled. "Now I'm going to go back to bed. Class is almost forty minutes in. There's no way I'm going."

"And what excuse is the Head Boy going to come up with about skipping?" the Italian asked, causing Draco to frown.

"I'll make something up," he replied, waving his hand, "Have some faith in me. You can go if you like."

"Nah, I think I'd rather go snooze in my bed. I'll see you at lunch Draco."

"Yes," the blonde replied, rubbing his head again. The headache seemed to be getting worse. He waited until his friend was a good distance away before turning around a corner. He might not be going to Divination, but he wasn't quite sure he wanted to go wandering through the library either. He'd just take a longer route to get back.

Wandering down the next corridor, he was startled when a door ahead of him burst open. He became instantly interested when he noticed that it was the door to Granger's first hour study hall. Maybe she was running away from the Slytherin's.

He quickly realized his analysis was wrong when the head of a child poked out, peering up and down the hall in a panic until he noticed the approaching blonde.

"Mr. Draco! Come quickly, I think she's dead!"

"Excuse me?" Draco asked, rubbing at his head. The headache was gone, but he felt a bit dizzy. Damnit, what was going on? Pausing outside the door he peered into the classroom and immediately his expression dropped.

Granger lay on the floor, surrounded by a group of first year Slytherin's. Wondering why he had to decide to come this way he stomped into the room, wondering why he had to be around for this.

Her head was bleeding, and he realized she'd clipped the desk when she fell. Peering around at the children he noted that several of them seemed quite alarmed, and they really did believe she was dead. He groaned.

"Damnit! Which one of you thought it would be funny to hex her?"

Several heads started shaking back and forth at once. "No one!" cried out the boy who originally spotted him, his hair as back as coal. "She was being bossy, trying to get us to work, and then she grabbed her head, stumbled and fell over."

He groaned, begrudgingly dropping his things as he crouched beside her. He could only imagine the rumors that would fly around about that later. Pulling out his wand to see the extent of the damage on the side of her head, he pushed her head over and she groaned softly. Well, she was alive anyway.

"Back to your seats," he snapped, peering back at the collective group of students from his own house, all very aware of his standing amongst the Slytherins. "Now! You better be working while I take her to the infirmary!"

"You're going to touch her?" a girl asked as she retreated to her seat. Draco turned and sneered at her as he pulled Granger up.

"Well I can't just leave her here," he said sarcastically. Glaring at the class their heads immediately snapped down, some working while others just stared at the wood, trying inconspicuously to watch Draco pull their unconscious teacher out of the room.

Draco swore inside his head quite a bit as pulled her out of the room, leaving everything but their wands behind in the room. He wasn't exactly sure if one was supposed to leave a class full of children alone, especially first years, but he tried to not think on it too much. Propping her against the wall just outside the door he gave her a few good shakes, trying his best to keep her head from banging against the brick. She only groaned at the action, feebly shoving his body back, though he didn't move. So she was awake, she was just fighting it.

"Get up Granger or I'm tearing up all your carefully done homework for the next few weeks."

Her eyes snapped open, though she looked groggy. The puckering on the side of her face didn't help too much, and he speculated again if someone in the classroom was at fault.

"Leave me alone," she groaned, moving to shut her eyes again, but he gave her another hard shake.

"Oh no, I just got you up. There's no way I'm going to try to do that again."

"Malfoy-"

"What did you do to yourself?" he snapped, keeping his hands on her upper arms. "You've now alarmed an entire class of first years. I'm sure this rumor will be all over school by lunch."

"I don't remember," she groaned, pushing him away so she could stumble and grab onto the wall. He opted to leave her there, deciding that he could use balance as leverage for an answer. "I don't."

"Well, you better come up with a story real quick because I'm taking you to the hospital wing."

Her head snapped around at that and she nearly fell over. He barely saved her from a second fall and shoved her back against the wall again, putting a good chunk of distance between them as she regained her balance.

"But about the cuts in my face?" she asked, eyeing him. He could tell that she was dizzy.

"I'll put a spell on those real quick so they can't be felt," he grumbled, pulling out his wand. "But then we're going. We can't just ignore this little situation; an entire classroom watched you fall over."

"Great," she muttered, grabbing her head with one hand. "That'll spread fast."

"Exactly. So move your hand so I can cast the spell and get you down there. If you're going to pass out at least do so on the bed down there."

Reluctantly agreeing Hermione allowed him to put the spell on her before they began wandering down the hall, the brunette using the wall as support. He left her briefly to return and grab their things, checking that the first years were actually behaving themselves. They weren't doing too bad, but he could tell that half the students were still terrified that there was blood on the floor. He left if there, deciding that it would keep them in check until the bell rang. When he returned to her she'd made little progress.

"Let me levitate you," he said at length when they got nowhere fast. She crinkled her nose at the idea still gripping her head with one hand. He was very conscious of the fact that his headache was back again, and it once more unearthed him.

"That will draw even more attention," she muttered as he shrank their items down and stuffed them into his pocket. "I'd rather just walk."

"Class is going to be over before you get down there! Like I said, levitation-"

"The only way you're helping me is if you help me walk," she hissed, moving away from the wall for a moment as the corridor broke into a T. He watched her teeter until they reached the next chunk of wall. "End of story."

He ignored her demand for another hundred feet before giving in. He couldn't let the entire school see them stumbling around the hall together. Regretting his actions before he even did it, he grabbed the woman and hiked her up in his arms, ignoring her protests.

"Oh, and this will draw less attention?" she snapped, even as she leaned the un-bloodied side of her head on his shoulder. He rolled his eyes, marching down the hallway with purpose.

"Well, it'll get you there faster than walking will," he grumbled, praying to every god he could think of that no one saw them.

* * *

Draco was, unhappily, forced to wait around until something on her head could be figured out. If nothing else, he decided he at least had an excuse as to why he missed his first class. He'd just say that he noticed her acting weird as he passed the classroom- which, thankfully, did have a window- and this ended up happening. Yeah, that was buyable.

What he couldn't tolerate was the idea that Gryffindors were going to invade the space at any moment to check on her. Once it got around that she was found hurt he knew the entire fucking house would come and invade the hospital wing. He hoped to escape before then, but it wasn't looking good.

The wound was healed quickly, and she was released less than twenty minutes after arriving, though Madame Pomfrey didn't seem too enthused about the situation.

"And you just fell Miss Granger?" she asked for the third time. "The only thing leading up to it was a headache?"

"Yes," Hermione responded, tired of giving the same answers. "I don't recall anything else."

"I thought so. Well, I'm going to give you a potion to take over the next two days to keep that from happening again. Take it three times a day and you should feel better. I want a cold compress on your face as often as possible for the next few hours. You should have someone with you if you plan to go back to your room to lie down for the remainder of the day, instead of remaining here like prescribed." She eyed Malfoy at that, who glared at the woman.

"I'm fine by myself," Hermione argued, but Pomfrey would not hear it.

"You can either have someone with you for the remainder of the day probably Mr. Malfoy, or you can stay in here and be hounded by the people I'm sure are coming this way as we speak. At least only a few people know where your common room is."

The brunette muttered something before hopping up, causing both the on lookers to worry about her balance. But she was fine just then, and focused her attention on Malfoy to glare at him. "Come on then, I suppose you're getting out of class today."

"Who said I wanted to spend my entire day with you? I'll be cooped up in there tonight anyway." He hadn't' told her about their upcoming house guest yet.

"I did," she huffed, leaning lightly against the wall. "Because at least I can hide up in the dorm room. Come on."

She turned and stumbled off without waiting for him to say a work, alarming Pomfrey. Rolling his eyes, Draco sidestepped the woman, following Granger into the hallway. Passing period was over, so they had some time for rumors so spread throughout school before they really needed to worry.

"I'm not your baby sitter," he spat, keeping up with her easily. "I won't watch you like a dog."

"Never expected it," she huffed as they walked. "I only want one thing from you."

"Just one thing? Well, lucky me! What is it?" he asked sarcastically, resisting the urge to be a real dick to her.

"That bloody fairytale book!" she spat, continuing to march unevenly. "Damn it, I want to know what's happening to me. If I'm going to fall over and lose consciousness on a daily basis, I'd like to be warned. And since you're the one with a copy, I want you to get it for us."

He froze, alarmed by her statement as the brunette kept walking. She really wanted him to get the book? Getting it would mean owling his parents, and they weren't in the best situation at the moment. He wasn't sure he could or _would_ comply with her demand.

He was trying to avoid his parents in all honesty.

* * *

**A/n:** Review up! It's even the right chapter this time :D Don't forget to hop on over to my profile, follow the link and donate to the cancer site! Come on, you know you want to…


	9. Effects of Use

**A/n:** Thanks to my beta **Hunter's Heir**! **Not yet edited.

* * *

**9. Effects of Use**

She felt gross to be honest. Her head hurt, she was a lumpy mess, and in the morning she was going to end up bleeding again. They were getting nowhere fast, and her confidence was beginning to be knocked down a notch. So far she'd discovered absolutely nothing useful or productive, and that really ate at her.

Whether or not Malfoy even owled his parents about that book remained a mystery to her. She really needed it, and he knew that, but for some reason she got the feeling that he was going to prolong things by not complying. What he had against just owling his bloody parents evaded her, but she didn't appreciate it. Like she'd told him, if he wanted to get this done and over with as quickly as possible then he was going to have to work with her instead of against her.

She imagined that this whole ordeal might be finished by the time they were thirty if things kept going the way they were- if the blood loss didn't kill her by then. If it did, she was going to make his life miserable in her afterlife, haunting him every single day. He'd never be left alone if he was the reason she died.

But that really wasn't the state of mind she should put herself in, not when she was already fretting about things. Sitting in her room later she held a copy of their mission, still trying to depict what everything meant.

And in the common room she could hear Malfoy talking to a female. Prat! He couldn't help her, but he could bring women up there? Well, that was quite frustrating, but for the time being she ignored him. There was simply no reason to go out there right then when things were peaceful. They weren't arguing, and she liked that. It was moderately quiet.

At her side sat a potion bottle. After the stint earlier they'd agreed that she needed some blood-replenishing potion on hand every morning, and he'd whipped up a batch. Well, he wasn't completely intolerable. At least tomorrow after the wounds closed she could take the potion and not feel so awful afterwards. That was something she looked forward to.

Staring at the page harder, she willed herself to understand the words. Why did mission always come in the form of riddles?

* * *

"I don't need this," Pansy spat as Draco gave her a gentle shove onto the couch for the third time. "I don't need to be up here. I need my-"

"I know what you need," he sighed, watching her, "But Blaise is worried about you Pans, a lot of us are. You're in too deep."

Her eyes narrowed, and then she pointed a finger directly at him. "Hypocrite! You just don't want me buying anymore, do you? You want it all to yourself!"

Draco rolled his eyes. Truthfully he'd never reached the brink of insanity on these drugs like Pansy had, and it occasionally scared him how far gone she seemed. He knew Blaise loved her, really loved her, but he seemed defeated those days. She was only coherent sometimes, and when she actually knew what was happening she just asked for more drugs. She was sick with addiction, and someone needed to get her out of it before she killed herself.

If he was honest, she needed a rehabilitation center, but that word scared him. Getting over drugs was just awful he'd heard, and it wasn't something he planned on trying out. Maybe if no one realized what was going on with him he could avoid it the rest of his life.

Yeah… like that would work. But as far as Draco was cocnenred, he would never be caught and forced to stop. Someone would actually have to care enough to tell him to stop, to make him quit. And that was impossible; no one cared that much about him.

"I need to see Astoria," Pansy said, wringing her hands. "I need them."

By them he knew she meant that she needed more of the Dragon's Brew, though that came in a vial and not in pill form. Cocking an eyebrow he considered her choice of words. Maybe she was on something else after all.

"What do you need?" he countered, leaning against the sofa.

"Them!" She threw her hands up, eyes wide. "The pills."

Now she had his full attention, for he very well knew that the Dragon's Brew did not exist in pill form anywhere out there. It was strictly a liquid. "What pills?"

"The uppers," she whispered, gripping one of her wrists tightly. She appeared to be digging her nails into the thin flesh there. "I _need _them."

Well, he'd always thought that the Dragon's Brew was an upper. It cured urges in many ways and kept you going in others, but he also knew that it was closer to Meth than a muggle upper. Why Pnasy thought she needed two seemingly alike drugs he didn't know, but it concerned him. Perhaps that's what put her so close to the edge.

He cast a spell on the door, making double sure that she couldn't get out of there. He half-considered warding Granger's room but thought better of it. She'd figure out they had a house-guest soon enough when she went out for dinner, and then he could deal with her yelling. Besides, Pansy was more of a danger to herself than anyone else outside of the dorm, considering that she had to actually navigate out of the library once she got out of the dorm, something he doubted she could do in her delusional state. And Granger at least proved she could survive during the war, and he was quite certain she could handle Pansy if need be. She didn't need him warding her door when she was perfectly capable of getting Pansy out.

_Unless she's bleeding again. Then she might be distracted. _

Draco shook the idea out of his head. He wouldn't think about that.

Pansy was currently wandering aimlessly around the room, looking for an out. He pulled her away from his bedroom several times, knowing that his vial was sitting out openly on his desk so he could have some relief once he finished handling Pansy. Hopefully she would lie down and stop pestering him.

Stupid Astoria, selling things out in the open. If she was just a bit more conservative about her illegal dealing then she wouldn't do it in the middle of the fucking common room, he wouldn't have to guard Blaise's girlfriend from both escaping and hurting herself, and he could sleep as peacefully as possible that night. But instead he had to watch Pansy.

He'd slipped some sleep draught and dreamless potion into her drink earlier. If he was lucky she'd be out soon.

"Malfoy I think-"

Granger paused outside her bedroom door, watching Pansy fidget uncomfortably around on the couch, glance in her direction, and then continue fidgeting. The brunette's eyebrows shot up and she looked densely at the blonde, waiting for a much-needed explanation.

"A word with you in m-you room?" he asked, wandering towards her. He early suggested using his until he remembered that he had the vial sitting out. Granger sputtered for several moments, watching the shaky girl, but Draco made sure he pushed her back enough that she could was inside the room before he stepped in as well, shutting the door until just a crack remained open. He wanted to be able to hear if Pansy started acting ridiculous. Hopefully, she'd calm down soon and the potions he'd put in her drink would put her right to sleep. Then he'd have some peace of mind.

"What's going on?" Granger spat, unhappy as he suspected. "Why is she here? And what the hell-"

"She's spending the night," he interjected, watching her eyebrows disappear into her hairline at that. "It's a favor to Blaise."

"You _sleeping_ with that shaky-"

"I'm certainly not sleeping with Pansy," he replied, rolling his eyes. Wow, she truly was dense. "She's my mates girlfriend for Merlin's sake! I'm just having her stay on the couch tonight."

"Why? Doesn't she have her own room?"

"Well yes, but tonight circumstances are less than beneficial to her current state."

Hermione frowned, shouldering him over so she could peer out her door at his friend. That made him fidgety, and he wished she wouldn't do that. He didn't want her looking too much and figuring something out. "What is wrong with her exactly? Did something bad happen to her?"

"Erm, you could say that I suppose."

She straightened and glanced back at him, eyes narrowed. "You don't sound too certain."

"Well, it's definitely something bad, I can admit to that. But I'm not going to share my woes with you. I'm keeping her here tonight for her own good, and you won't be making her leave. Trust me Granger, it's better this way."

"What about in the morning?" she asked, glancing his way.

"What about it? You do your healing in here, she stays out there, and you take the potion, appearing as though nothing has happened."

"I suppose," the woman grumbled, though she didn't look too happy. "Are you sure she's alright? She looks like she's about to go insane at any moment."

"That's just how Pansy is," he admitted truthfully, knowing it was the drugs and not her personality. "Unfortunately."

"What made her that way?"

He frowned, wishing she would drop the subject. "War."

"Oh," she replied, seemingly having overlooked that possibility. "Shouldn't she be… treated or something."

"Her parents don't want that," he snapped, annoyed. She just had to keep digging, didn't she? "Look, it' just for tonight and she'll be back in the Slytherin common room by breakfast. No worries, okay? It's not like I intend to have every one of my friends spending the nights here."

She didn't look too convinced, but nonetheless dropped the topic. He slipped back out of her room without any more issues, ignoring the fact that she was doing something useful and trying to figure out the curse, while he was going to take another sip of his addiction and contemplate a letter that he shouldn't have to think so hard on.

Pansy was half awake in the common room when he returned. The potions put her under pretty fast, and he placed a throw on her for warmth before going back to his room and shutting the door. There, it should be an easy night if nothing else.

A crave for the potion had been building up in him for the last three hours, and he withheld the urge. It wasn't painful yet, which was good, but he didn't want to wait for it to be this time. He took the vial uncorked it, and downed the entire thing. It was more than he usually took, but he didn't honestly care just then. Pansy's condition stressed him out more than he should.

He kept reminding himself that he had more self-control than that. He wouldn't end up like her.

Or he hoped not anyway. Sitting down at the desk, he stared long and hard at the parchment in front of him. He wasn't quite sure what either of his parents would make of him asking for a copy of a childhood fairytale. What kind of lie could he come up with for that which wouldn't cause his father to explode in rage? Then again, if his father exploded he couldn't quite say that he would miss the bastard. It might just be a burden off everyone's shoulders.

Finally he scratched out a meaningless note and sent it off, dodging details and coming to a point of conclusion as quickly as possible. His mother would likely be the one to read it, so he hoped that she would remember the old book. It was one of his favorites after all.

Leaning back in his desk once the letter was off he rubbed his eyes. Maybe it was just having Pansy there in her diluted, drugged mind that had him offset, or maybe it was the build-up of the situation. He didn't recall how long it took the process to pick up, but one thing he did remember, was it didn't take long.

He hadn't told Granger that though, for he didn't want to alarm her any more than she already was. Hopefully they would start figuring things out soon before it got any worse.

* * *

**A/n:** So I cut this short to avoid leaving you with a nasty cliffhanger. You would've really hated me for it. But this chapter has a big focus on Pansy and what long-term use of the Dragon's Brew can do to you. There's also some comparisons to the potion and actual drugs to give you a basic idea. It will all be investigated in the coming chapters.

Next time there will be a lot more focus on the curse problem they have, so please leave a comment! I barely got any last chapter, and it's hard sometimes to write when you don't have the inspiration from reviewers. Like now for instance my muse has decided to leave me high and dry, and the reviews can help. So go ahead and leave a comment! At least this story was technically out on time :)

And on a different topic, feel free to check out my new stories Footsteps and The Otherside of Life, though I'm not sure the second one will be continued yet or not. I have very conflicted feelings about it.


	10. Physically, Awkwardly Linked

**A/n:** Here's chapter 2! Thanks to my beta **divina126**! **Not yet edited!

* * *

**Chapter 10. Physically, Awkwardly Linked**

Hermione knew the pain shouldn't come until she woke up, really, she did, but the fact that it was two in the morning and she was wide awake feeling like she was on fire couldn't be normal. She only got cuts, right? And they didn't burn, they just hurt. So what the hell was going on?

She'd felt aggravations like this before, but this time the pain was more intense. She had a distinct yearning for something, but she couldn't quite figure out what. Internally she craved it, but unless it was pumpkin juice she didn't know what was bothering her so.

Opting to wait in bed and see if the pain passed, she finally found relief when it eased away. It took almost an hour, but she felt better in the end as a weight removed itself from her chest and her body began to relax, the pain disappearing almost instantly.

It definitely wasn't normal, which was for sure. She didn't even really know if it was the effect of the Angels' Trumpet Draught curse or not. Sitting up in bed she crossed her leg at the knee as she turned on the light, trying to ignore how the brightness hurt her eyes. She fingered the anklet, her mind working a mile a minute. What was going on?

The brunette had a sneaking feeling, and it was one that she didn't like very much. Her suspicion about the surprise anklet could be completely wrong, but with each passing day her idea seemed less and less obscure. After all, pain like that doesn't just appear from nowhere!

But it was late, and she shouldn't trouble herself so much. It was something to speculate tomorrow while waiting for Pansy to leave, which she hoped it would be early. Having that belligerent girl in the dorm longer than required did not sound like something joyful to the Head girl.

Besides, it would be quite hard to bring up her idea about the anklets with Parkinson in the middle of things.

* * *

The loud crash from Hermione's room was what woke the other two occupants of the dorm that morning. Pansy jolted up on the couch, hair dis-heaved, body jerky from having none of the Dragon's Brew the night before. She thought she might just be imagining the sound, and quickly laid back down and covered her head with the pillow, willing the world to go away.

Draco on the other hand knew better, and since he'd cured his addiction's thirst in the wee hours of the morning he was fully positive this wasn't a hallucination. The sound of breaking glass in Granger's room was very real, and since no loud curses followed it, could be something very bad.

He didn't bother knocking, deciding that if she was unconscious on the ground in a heap it would do no good to tap on wood. Reaching the door he had to pause for a moment, feeling a horrible pain in first his chest and then up his throat. Where the sensation came from he didn't know, but it felt truly awful. Taking a deep breath he found that it actually hurt his lungs, causing it to feel as though his ribs were trying to puncture through the organs. He inhaled sharply.

He heard Pansy shifting on the couch behind him and used that as incentive to get inside her bedroom. If Parkinson started talking he knew exactly what topic she would bring up, and it wasn't something he wanted to discuss. Drugs were not the topic of choice when one needed to ensure that their roommate is still alive. He got inside before she could utter a word.

Quickly he realized what had broken. Some of her perfumes and other assorted items on the supplied vanity had fallen on the floor. He suspected that she was the cause of this, but why she was staggering so far out of the way of her bed to reach the desk when she was bleeding escaped him, and he immediately walked to the bathroom. It was the only door that was shut.

"Granger!" he called, knocking loudly. Talking hurt quite a bit, and he had to take a few more breaths to calm himself. "Granger, open up!"

A muffled sob was the only answer he got, and Draco actually jumped away from the door at that. No, the Head girl… she wouldn't, she couldn't be… crying?! He intensified his knocking, ignoring the pain in his chest. "Granger! Open the fucking door!"

It opened a moment later and he shoved it open, nearly throwing the woman behind it to the floor. He caught her just in time, the agony in his chest still evident. As she straightened out, he came to an alarming discovery; her hand was bleeding.

He looked down at his own. No, her blood was now stuck on his hand! But it was faint, and he realized quickly that her hand wasn't bleeding, but that there was blood stuck there. Looking to her face, he stumbled back in alarm.

The blood around and dripping from her mouth gave the appearance that she'd been sucker-punched three or four times, but he could tell immediately that her bones weren't broken, and knew that wasn't the case. He barely had time to examine even one cut before her eyes widened and she spun away, coughing into the sink, which he also noticed was red.

Not red for Gryffindor, but red with blood.

She coughed twice, choking up blood. He felt pain through his chest and throat and tried to disregard the feeling. He couldn't think on that now.

"What the fuck?" he whispered, thankful that he'd brought his wand with him. He didn't need to make the bleeding brunette face him, and quickly cast several spells on her. Draco assumed that she was too distracted and in too much pain to do it herself. He certainly knew he would have a struggle if he was in her situation.

Hermione heaved several times over the sink, thinking she might choke up some more blood. The red pool she'd created wasn't appealing and she looked away in the opposite direction of Draco as she gripped the counter tighter. The need to cough was decreasing, and slowly but surely the pain in her chest was beginning to subside.

She couldn't stand to look at him when she finally regained control of her breathing, the pain in her chest disappearing into a minor throb. She could still feel the cuts on her face bleeding, but she refused to open her eyes. She didn't want to see the disgust and disapproval she knew was lingering in his eyes. He had to be ready to get out of there.

Slippery fingers searched for her wand, but she could hear the blonde cursing beside her before a hand gently locked on her wrist. "Sit down before you pass out Granger. You're losing blood quickly."

Feeling like this wasn't something she wanted help with she continued to reach for her wand, disgusted with herself. She felt weak, pathetic, and needy. Hermione never asked for help, especially from people like Draco. Yet here he was, offering.

The wand slipped away from her fingers just as she reached it again, and she heard it clatter to the floor. He sighed, and she shifted away, moving towards the toilet now. Well, there was no way she could bend down without falling. Might as well take a seat.

He grabbed her arm as she walked, providing double reassurance that she wouldn't fall and harm herself further. Her eyes remained closed as her body was gently turned and pushed down to sit on the toilet. A second later she felt the first of the wounds on her face healing. The brunette suspected that it would take a bit since there was just so much blood on her now. She imagined the site was quite alarming.

"What's happening to you?" he asked in a soft voice as he worked. She didn't know the answer, and opted to remain silent as he continued what he was doing. The pain attacking her body lessoned with each cut he closed. There weren't a ton yet, but the added pain from coughing up blood didn't help her one bit.

He moved away, and she hoped to keep her eyes closed until he left. Instead there was a short pause before he placed something on her hand. "Drink this, it's some of the blood replenishing potion."

Grateful that he'd grabbed some of that she finally opened her eyes, keeping her vision away from him as she drank her allotted dose. She continued to face away for several more moments before turning back to him.

"Thank you," she muttered, reaching up to touch her face. In her half-dazed, half-pained state she's failed to realize he'd used a cleaning spell on her mouth and the sticky, awful tasting blood was no longer there. Meeting his eyes, she nodded her thanks again.

"It's not as though you could've managed it," he pointed out, studying her closely. "What exactly was that?"

"I don't know," she said, studying her bathroom sink. He'd cleaned that too. "I haven't coughed up blood yet. It scared me this morning when the first fit came, and I stumbled around and hit the vanity out there. That's the crash you probably heard that brought you in here."

"It's a good thing it did," Draco replied. "You looked pretty shitty when I got here."

She nodded, looking down. "I'm aware. I really don't know what it was though."

"Neither do I," he grunted. "I always thought it was just cuts that the person got stuck with, not fits like the one you just had."

"I wish it were just the cuts," Hermione said with a sigh. "I've learned to manage those."

He looked at her sad expression, the worry written across her face. Sure, she was fine now, but what about tomorrow morning? This had to be a living nightmare to wake up to each and every day. It had been several days since he last saw her condition, and now he recalled how bad off she was. If anyone else ever saw her that ay they'd probably suspect abuse.

"I sent for the book," Draco said after a pause, shifting uncomfortably. "It should arrive sometime between now and Wednesday."

"We'll have Skillman's class before then," the woman muttered. "We should be halfway done with our project by Tuesday, and we haven't even started."

"It's only Sunday," he reminded, rolling his eyes. "Once Pansy leaves later, we've discussed this, and lunch is out of the way, we can start in on it. This one should be easier since the subject isn't so broad. We could start at three and be finished with the entire thing before supper I bet."

Hermione's eyes widened, having stopped listening to him as soon as he mentioned Pansy. "Oi, Parkinson!? She's still here?"

"Yes," he said, crossing his arms. "What's the big deal?"

"What's the big deal!? She probably heard the crash, and she certainly couldn't miss you walking in here! Merlin, was she awake?"

"Yes. What are you getting at Granger?"

"She's going to wonder!" the brunette hissed, pointing a finger back towards the common room. "And it's going to be _your_ responsibility to come up with an explanation to this mess!"

"Easy," he replied, knowing that in her current state Pansy was easier to sway than one would think. "I should actually be getting her back to the Slytherin common room about now."

"She can't walk herself?"

"Erm, no," Draco said, turning away. "Why don't you finish recovering and I'll get her out of here. You look pale." Knowing that was true, she didn't argue as he swiftly left the room. Once Hermione was certain he was gone and out of her bedroom, she shakingly turned and looked at her reflection in the mirror.

All those cuts on her skin stood out as thin white lines on her pale complexion, the size of each and every one quite obvious. There was only one more than the day before, but she looked horrendous. Now there were two on her neck, and she wondered how the hell Malfoy could stand looking at her. She appeared pretty awful.

The scars, they made her look victimized. In a way she was, held captive and helpless by a curse she had no control over, but that didn't make her feel good. She looked like she'd been abused, taken advantage of, and it left a sickening feeling in the pit of her stomach. Despite knowing that she couldn't control what was going on until they figured things out, she felt quite ashamed of how she looked. It was an ugly, scary image, and she didn't much like looking in the mirror anymore, even with the glamour charms she used daily. She knew what was hidden beneath her make-up, and she felt hideous each time she looked. This curse was turning her into an ugly hag, something she didn't like to think on. She might not be the most beautiful woman in the world, but she at least liked to look nice. Knowing that her flesh was being torn apart and hidden on a daily basis didn't really give her that feeling. She was starting to wonder why she bothered looking decent if she would look like a monster for the rest of her life.

A monster, yes, that's what the curse would turn her into. A hideous, scarred monster. How would she ever reveal her true skin to her friends, family, future boyfriend, anyone? Who would accept her?

Maybe she was overreacting, but Hermione liked to think of it as pre-planning. Now that this curse would forever warp how she looked, she felt that it was necessary to consider how this would affect her future, for she would never be the same after this. The curse would have more of an effect on her than Malfoy in the end, when all was said and done.

* * *

Getting Pansy back to the Slytherin common room was simple really, once Draco got her off the blasted couch. First she wanted to know about Hermione, then she wanted some of the Dragon's Brew, and then she wanted to never move again. It took more effort than he wanted to admit to get her lazy arse up and out of the common room, but eventually it worked. He was pleased when they finally left the dorm.

Finding Blaise was even easier. The Italian sat beside Theo and Crabbe, conversing about Merlin knew what. As soon as Draco entered though with Pansy in tow Blaise was up and out of his chair, moving to stand beside her, cradling her face.

"Are you alright?"

Pansy looked at her boyfriend as he spoke, the rest of the common room ignoring the trio. "Draco wouldn't give me any Dragon's Brew."

Zabini's eyes shot up to his friend, and he gave the blonde a grateful smile. "Good."

"No," she whined, "Not _good_. I need-"

"Sleep," he interjected, looking around. Astoria was in the corner of the room, making deals with another client. Daphne sat amongst some other women, but he caught her eye almost immediately and the blonde female excused herself, making her way over.

"Hi Pans," she said gently, glancing at the three. "I'm going to take you back to your bedroom."

"But what about-"

"Come on," Daphne interjected, glancing Astoria's way. Before Parkinson could argue again she latched onto her friend's wrist, dragging her towards the girls dormitories. Astoria never noticed them.

"I talked to Daphne last night," Blaise explained, rubbing the back of his head. "Since she isn't into selling to students, I thought I could trust her to get Pansy upstairs without selling anything."

"I see," Draco commented, looking around the common room. "Looks like everyone had a party."

"It was certainly something," the man replied, and Draco noticed just how tired his friend seemed. "Astoria went off the deep end."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, you know how their family's money continues to spiral downhill? Astoria's more intent than Daphne is to salvage the money they have left, and she went on a major selling spree last night. It's a good thing neither of you were here."

"I'm sure," the blonde grumbled.

"Anyway, she ended up making too many announcements too quickly. She had money on the mind, and failed to realize that she didn't have enough of the Brew to sell to everyone. Since Daphne refuses to share her half of any of the batches with her sister, Astoria ended up not having enough product for the customers."

Draco cringed. He didn't really like where this was going. "So by going on the deep end you mean…"

"I mean she got herself in a shit load of trouble. The man she's currently talking to was supposed to receive two vials full, and only received half of one. Needless to say he's not too happy. I'm pretty sure a fight would break out if there weren't so many people in the room."

"And last night?"

Blaise's expression darkened. "She got beat up, majorly. Theo found her bleeding in the closet by the fireplace, forgotten in the hype of the party, since she'd been dealing in there. Ended up having to revive her. She didn't need to go down to the hospital wing, luckily for her, but she's made a shit ton of enemies now. People who were once her friends because she fed them their addiction are turning fast on her because she can't offer what they want anymore. She's not in a safe place right now."

"Doesn't sound like it," Draco replied with a grimace. "And what does Daphne have to say about all of this?"

"Daphne isn't too forgiving on the matter. Actually, she was non-responsive to the entire ordeal. She remarked that if Astoria paced herself, sold to people outside of Hogwarts and didn't make promises she couldn't keep then this wouldn't have happened. I agree with her."

"I guess she was in a little over her head," Malfoy replied, getting tense. Something was beginning to dawn on him, and he didn't like the idea appearing in his head. "So is Astoria going to stop dealing here all-together?"

"No one knows yet, she's still currently trying to mend the deals she wasn't able to keep. I think it's foolish if she continues."

Immediately Draco grabbed his friends arm, panic taking over. "But what about me Blaise?" he hissed, keeping his voice low. "Where am I going to get some more of the Dragon's Brew if she doesn't sell here anymore!? I'll start having withdrawals!"

He shook his friend off. "That's one reason why you should've never gotten into drugs to begin with mate. They're bad news, no matter what they are. I think it would do everyone good if she quit, considering that people would actually be forced to stop, people like _you_. Withdrawal might suck, but in the end you'll be free of your addiction you know."

"I don't want to be free! I want to keep my coping tool."

"Draco, the drug is only hurting you, not helping. Daphne will never sell to you because she won't sell to anyone in the school, and Astoria's at her wits end trying to find a way to keep supplying things. It would be better for you in the end if you would only drop the drug now, and get out from under it. There's remedies out there to help you achieve something like that."

The man scowled. "I don't need remedies Blaise, I need _it_."

"No," he corrected, "You want it, just as Pansy wants it. Need and want are amazingly different things Draco, although people often confuse their meaning. For right now no one can tell you what will happen from here, not even Astoria. No one knows what she's going to do."

"She has to keep brewing," the blonde whispered, backing away from his friend. "I'll go nutty without it."

The Italian shook his head. "I think you might already be there, mate."

Draco, unwilling to accept any truth in his friends words, turned quickly and left the Slytherin common room without a backwards glance. He didn't want to look at Blaise, and he certainly couldn't look at Astoria. He'd barge back in and demand answers to his questions if he did that.

Storming down the hallway, his thoughts traveled down to an anklet secured tightly around his leg. His sneaking suspicion towards the reasoning behind that continued to grow, and something daunting occurred to him. If these things linked him emotionally or something to Granger, then did she ever feel his pain when he needed more of the drug? If she did, she had to know something was up, and that frightened him. If she did figure things out, he could only imagine what her reaction would be to the truth.

But he supposed that was the point. If she never discovered the truth, then he never had to explain anything to his Gryffindor roommate.

* * *

"It came while you were away," she said truthfully, staring at the book. "I decided to leave it in case you threw a fit that I even touched it. If I read it, I thought a bigger fight might ensue."

"I'm not going to yell at you for reading this book Granger," he remarked, sitting down on the sofa in the living room. Upon arriving he discovered her there staring at the thin book, and immediately realized what she was gazing upon. His mother ended up responding surprisingly quickly. "It is here after all to benefit both of us."

"I know, but still," she replied, shrugging. "I don't have the energy to fight with you today."

"Nor do I," he agreed, sitting beside her. A letter was tied to the book and he reached forward quickly to grab it.

"I didn't read it," she said, dashing away his concern that she had. Flipping the letter open, he was instantly glad she hadn't.

_Draco-_

_I don't see how a collection of mythical stories from your childhood will do anything for you as an adult now. Your father never did forgive me for filling your head with such rubbish as a boy. He'd have a fit if he knew that you were looking into something so far-fetched after all of this time. Circe, he's going to think that I poisoned your mind or something!_

_Here's the book, and you need not owl it back. You can bring it home whenever you feel like it, okay? Just don't start believing any of the rubbish in here, it's all folklore as it is. Nothing within these bindings is real, and I don't want you believing anything else. They will never be real, son._

_Your father would be ashamed Draco. Don't tarnish the family name by being caught with such silliness! I don't expect to hear another word about this book, mind you. Read it all you want, call up the long lost memories of childhood if you must, but don't brood there. You need to be fully aware and prepared to take over this home once graduation hits, taking on the responsibilities of the family business, ties, social placement, and everything else that goes with this. Don't get stuck in the past Draco. We've both learned the hard way that nothing will change how things are now._

_I hope you're doing well in your studies._

_-Narcissa_

He crumbled the letter up, tossing it to the side. Anyone else might see this as a concerned letter from a strict parent, but he knew there was a lot more to the letter than that. He knew what the hidden message was in that, the low reminder that his life would never have the chance to be anything different once he got out of school. It was just a bit upsetting.

"Not the best note I gather?" Granger asked from beside him, and he gave her a small shove backwards.

"No," he snapped, "and give me some space! I don't breathe down your neck, do I?"

Rolling her eyes at his annoying attitude she shifted away a bit, remaining close enough that she could still read the pages of the book. He picked it up and leafed through the stories, searching for the one he really wanted.

"Ah, yes," he remarked, "Here it is. The Ghost of the Cauldron."

"Excuse me?"

He glanced her way. "Would you let me read?"

Hermione held her hands up in surrender. "Sorry."

"As I was saying, in this book it's called _"The Ghost of the Cauldron"_. When you create the right postion combination a ghost from beyond will appear, a banshee really, that will leave a difficult and terrifying message for the caster(s) to complete. One is cursed and stuck trying to beat the clock to save his or her life, subjected to the torture of multiple cuts across their face, multiplying by the day until a morning comes whence they bleed out before they can even try to save themselves. It's tragic really."

"Sounds like it," she muttered with a shudder. "What else does it say?"

"Um," he replied, scanning through the words as she did, "The caster has to be pure of heart else it doesn't work. Hmm, I don't remember that requirement."

"Interesting," she grunted. "It also says that there's no way to get out from under the mission without either the cursed victim dying or the group defeating the task set before them. So this can happen to multiple people and yet only one suffers?"

"I'm sure it's happened before," Draco agreed, eyeing the text. "It says that usually if the banshee that appears is male, then the victim will be male if that's at all possible, and the same goes if the banshee is female. So apparently, since our banshee was female, you were going to be the cursed one from the start."

"Lucky me," she muttered. "Does it say anything about coughing up blood?"

"Just that the variations of torture and persuasion to get the task done can vary from group to group. Apparently for us, you get to not only receive cuts but also coke up blood, and we both get an anklet. How awesome."

"I wonder what the anklets are for," Hermione mused, drawing their attention away from the book for a moment. He shut the book, leaving his finger within the pages to mark his place and met her eyes.

"I've had an… idea about that," he admitted, uncertain whether or not he should reveal his idea. She nodded.

"So have I, but I'm not sure it's correct."

"And you think I know whether or not mine is?"

"No," she agreed, shrugging. "You just seem confident with yours."

"No, I'm actually beginning to wonder if I'm crazy for even wondering about it."

"What is it?"

"Don't ask Granger."

"Well, we can't just ignore the topic forever. We'll have to discuss this at some point, so why not now? What is your idea concerning this?"

"Why don't you go first? Let's hear what you have to say on th matter."

"Malfoy, it's stupid to argue about who goes first. We're both going to have to say something and risk being laughed at."

"I still think you should go first," he replied, shutting the book entirely as he set it on the table. She looked terrified, but he had the page number implanted in his head. "So go on, what's your idea on these fucking anklets we've acquired?"

Hermione relented, deciding that there was no real point to continue arguing. "Well other than the fact that it gives you a nice feminine touch," she began, enjoying his irritated look, "I think, on some level, they connect us. They aren't just there for decoration or to be annoying, but they actually have a real reason for existing. I don't know what that reason is exactly, but they do connect us, or so I believe."

He arched an eyebrow. "And how do you think they connect us?"

"This is silly."

"Hey, you're the one that said we desperately need to talk about this at some point, so continue on. How do they connect us?"

She sighed. "I think on a physical level, as far as feelings go. I've had some pains, irritations, and the like lately that are unexplainable. They appear as though from nowhere, and disappear for seemingly the same reason. They weren't there before these things appeared on us, and I'm pretty sure that once they disappear the sensations will be gone as well." Hermione looked his way. "Well, are you going to laugh now?"

But Draco was just shaking his head, looking on at her with large eyes. "No I don't think so."

"Excuse me?" she asked, sounding surprised. "I thought you were going to laugh at me! The idea is impossible, right?"

"No," he said, cutting off an avenue for agreement, "I don't really think so. See, Granger, I've been having similar thoughts on the matter myself."

"Really?"

"Yes, and if we both think that there's some sort of physical connection to all of this, then we can't be that far off target from what it really is."

"You actually believe me?"

"I've noticed it too," he admitted, glancing away. "This morning when you were choking up blood, I bet your chest fucking hurt, right?"

"Of course."

"Well, mine did too. I didn't understand it at the time, but when I heard the crash in your room I decided to check if you were dead. When I healed you, I felt the pain lessoning on me as well, and it was kind of alarming. That's probably when I really started believing that it was possible."

"Wow," she said, leaning back against the sofa, "And here I thought you were going to laugh at me!"

"I would never," he defended, holding a hand to his chest, "Not when I believe the same thing." She knew he was poking fun at her, just a bit.

"So if there's a physical connection," she continued, tapping her chin, "Then does that mean that we only feel each other's pain?"

"I don't know," he admitted honestly. "I'm hoping that it doesn't have anything to do with our emotions at any rate."

"That would be pretty awkward," she replied with a shudder. "I can only imagine how awful that would be!"

"Indeed," he agreed, rubbing his chin. "Say, Granger?"

"Hmm?"

"You didn't feel pain last night by chance, did you?"

She frowned. "Well, I woke up in the middle of the night feeling really needy of something, but I couldn't tell you what. It did hurt and all but- oh Merlin, I was feeling what you were, wasn't I?"

He didn't respond and instead stared off ahead of him, but that was all the answer she needed. Moving so she sat on the table, she did her best to lock her eyes with his.

"Malfoy," she began, looking over his body language, "Why did it seem like I was having withdrawals over something?"

* * *

**A/n: **We're going to look a lot more into the task, the message left for them and drugs/addiction in the next chapters. So be prepared! Go ahead and shoot a review this way darlings, they are always appreciated!


	11. Against the Wall

**A/n**: Thanks to my beta **divina126**! **Not yet edited. Enjoy!

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**Chapter 11. Against the Wall**

"I don't know what you mean," he said offhandedly, ignoring the glare she sent his way. Even after she accused him of such a thing, he still looked aloof, as though he thought he had the upper hand just then.

As if.

"Malfoy," she snapped, hitting her hand on the table she sat upon, "Don't play games. What the hell was I feeling last night?!"

"I-"

"And don't say you don't know!" she screamed, standing up furiously. "Merlin, I thought I was going to die or something! I got lethargic, but at the same time I desperately wanted something, and I couldn't figure out what but it burned- oh, bloody hell, what are you on!?"

"You haven't even let me speak!" he hissed, standing as well. "Maybe if you did, I could tell you that your barmy analysis couldn't be further off target!"

"Oh, so it's not drug use then," she said, crossing her arms as she put on a sweet face. "Very well then, Malfoy, why don't you tell me what it really was then, hmm? I'm sure there's a perfectly logical explanation to everything, right?"

He knew she was baiting him, putting him in a difficult situation where he'd have to think on his feet to avoid being found out. Obviously, she didn't believe his statement one bit, and wanted proof that nothing was amiss. Fuck, could the anklets be any more annoying? Now he was going to have to talk about his drug problem with the stinking Mudblood!

"It's medicine, okay?" he said, clenching his hands. "I get chronic headaches."

"Do you now? I wonder why I haven't felt _those_ before!"

"Because of the medicine you daft bint!" he seethed, taking a step towards her. "I felt one coming on last night and had to get to my medicine quickly. My head was exploding."

"Doesn't sound like what I experienced," she countered, stepping towards him as well. "I already told you what I felt, and it certainly wasn't anything like what you're mentioning. Actually, I don't believe that this has to do with headaches at all! Lame lie, Malfoy."

"You're giving me one now," he muttered, but she wasn't paying attention. Instead she turned and marched towards his bedroom. Alarm bells went off in his head, and he stomped over to her as her hand reached the door handle.

"Well, let's see this so-called medicine you have," she spat, opening the door just as he grabbed her, spinning her around. "Let go of me!"

"Stay out of my room Granger," he said darkly, trying to pull her away from the door while trying to shut it at the same time. It didn't work out so well, considering that she was struggling against him, both of their wands left back at the table. "Would you quit struggling!?"

"Get your hands off of me!" she snapped, pulling on him. He finally gave up on the door, irritated that she was struggling so much. He nearly strangled her when she started kicking him, twisting as often as possible to make it difficult for him to keep a grip on her. Frustrated her grabbed her and slammed her back against the wall, causing them both to grow still. If being shoved into some bricks hurt she didn't let on and just stared up at him with fiery eyes.

"Don't, go in my room," he hissed, staring down at her. They were close enough that his breath tickled her, but the venom in his tone made the situation more threatening than anything. They were staring daggers at each other, eyes aflame.

"Or what?" she challenged. "Are you going to slam me into something else?"

He paused at that, eyeing the situation. As though realizing what he was doing he let go of her shoulders and stepped back, putting more than a meter of distance between them. Emotion danced across his eyes briefly as she slackened against the wall, still glaring his way. He crossed his arms, the emotion disappearing as he did so, but he was still studying her.

"Did I hurt you?" he asked, tone expressionless. She glared, rubbing her back.

"No, I enjoy being thrust against objects for the hell of it!" she seethed. She pushed away from the wall and he moved back as well. Although she couldn't read the expression in his eyes she felt a strong surge of disappointment, and it wasn't hers. "You're sure protective for someone who doesn't have anything to hide."

"Granger-"

"Remind me to never to actually bother you when you're really hiding something," she continued, shoving past him towards her own bedroom. "Merlin forbid I ever try to do something nice!"

"You were going to search my room-"

"And a person who doesn't have something to hide wouldn't shove others into walls!" she screamed, turning on him. "I know you're hiding something Malfoy, it's obvious now, but you don't have to be so mean about it!"

"Granger-"

"And another thing," she snapped, walking closer, "This things got too much of a hold on you, whatever you're taking! Malfoy I've known you for eight years and I've never seen you get physical with anyone, you've only ever used your wand." Her tone had softened now, and though she was still visibly angry she wasn't screaming. "Whatever you're taking, it's bad for you, and I know that without needing to see what you're taking. I'm willing to bet Parkinson is on the same shit."

"You don't know-"

"I know enough to see that's it's affecting you! Tell me I'm wrong or whatever, but I see what it does to you." She shook her head, turning away again. "Drugs corrupt your mind whether or not you want to see that Malfoy. There's nothing good that can come from substance abuse. You're only going to keep hurting yourself by doing this."

"Apparently you too," he grunted.

She glanced over her shoulder as she reached the door. "You should consider what you're doing to yourself. What happens if you hurt me when I'm bleeding? Then you'll feel like a right arsehole. Or if you actually hurt someone you care about? Drugs aren't the answer to whatever your problem is."

Hermione said nothing else as she opened her door and left him alone in the common room to think. He tried to not think too hard on why she dropped her pursuit of the potion so suddenly, but he knew he'd hurt her. Being forcefully shoved into a wall couldn't feel good on anyone's back, and he knew he hadn't been too gentle.

Sitting on the couch, he ran a finger over his jaw. She was right, he'd never really been aggressive before, for he was too cowardly in the years past to do such a thing, and this year he'd never had a reason to get at it with anyone. But just because she was prying didn't mean she deserved to be shoved about.

But she couldn't see what he was hiding, that much he knew. She had a teacher status when she wanted to use it, and that could bite him in the arse. What she didn't know couldn't hurt her, and he had no intention to share his secret with her.

* * *

Hermione was lying on her stomach later when it happened. Naked from the waste up she'd applied a cream to her back to soothe the ache she now had. She didn't bother checking for bruises, for he might be a jerk but he didn't throw her _that _hard. She was just sore.

That didn't excuse the fact though that he had indeed hurt her. Whatever he was on seemed to be fucking with his mind, and she'd spent the better part of the last two hours thinking on that. She had a written copy of the task they needed to complete sitting before her on the bed, desperately needing to be read. But each time she tried she got distracted, thinking back to her blonde roommate and the conflicted emotions dancing across his face during that three-minute confrontation.

It didn't seem like he'd really had a confrontation like that before. Malfoy seemed started by his own actions, perhaps more so than she was. But if he felt ashamed, bad, or anything else minutely human about the situation, she didn't know. All she knew was that he didn't seem to intend for that to happen.

Whatever, it was done. She'd be more careful in the future in case he lost his cool again. And if he was on drugs, then she expected that it would happen. His addiction would grow and his senses would decline. She wondered how long it would take to happen, and if she would notice immediately or not.

Aside from her Malfoy-issues, she'd been getting nowhere on the curse. It was just a jumble of phrases really, all mashed together for no apparent reason. It seemed like death was likelier to happen that a solution was to appear. And Hermione didn't really have any intention of dying via-ghost.

_With great sacrifice, comes great rewards,_

_Release past affiliations to step into the light_

_When joined similarities shall shine through the differences_

_And balance there will be._

Even just the first four lines were confusing! She knew it has something to do with them (obviously) but she was probably putting more thought into it than was healthy. The message stumped her, and she was not one to be defeated! Hermione would figure this out.

Looking closer at those lines, the gears in her head started turning…

_Screw the sacrifice part; I don't know what that means. But past affiliations? That probably means that we need to put our past behind us… which isn't going to happen. Stepping into the light could infer that we'll either see each other in a different way… presumably once this is over, or that we'll be stepping into some new beginnings._

_Similarities? The only similarity between us is the title of being the Head student of our gender. I don't see how that's going to make a difference._

Tapping her chin, she read through the first few lines once more. So they needed to let go of the past to step into some sort of brighter future, one where there was balance. She assumed _balance_ referred to a harmony of some sort, but whether that was between them or a greater number of people she had no idea. And there were more than a few obvious differences between them.

She was right initially. This entire thing had to be rubbish.

A knock on her door startled her, and she glanced around at her frightful state of undress. There was only one person who could be bothering her in there, only one person she wouldn't hear approaching. If it were any of her friends, there would've been a loud argument of some sort that disrupted the serene silence around her. Too bad the knock did the same thing.

"What?" she called out, feeling secure since her door was locked. Unfortunately her wand was still out in the common room, and she'd opted to just leave it there since shutting herself inside her room. She doubted that he would do anything to it, considering how strange he was acting when she left him. Maybe the prat could feel guilty on occasion.

"It's almost suppertime," he replied, his voice quiet through the door. "You skipped lunch."

"I'm aware. And for the record I'm not going down to dinner tonight. I'll just make something in the kitchenette."

"Should I even ask why?"

She didn't bother sparing his feelings. "My back is sore, I'd rather stay in my room and rest than go downstairs and sit at a table that doesn't have a chair with a back. At least I'll be comfortable up here."

Silence met her response, and she wondered if he'd just walked away. When he did finally respond, his voice was heavy. "Fine, whatever you say. I'll go down to the Great Hall, and you can use the time if you wish to get some food. I'll disappear into my bedroom if I return and you're still out in the common room."

Surprised, she laid there for several moments after he retreated from the door, uncertain what she should think now that she'd heard his upset tone. Maybe he was a little regretful.

What was he getting at? One didn't simply shove a person into a wall and then turn into a good guy an hour later. She wasn't sure what was going on, but she didn't know what to think of it either.

Well, he would be gone for a bit at dinner. Maybe she would have to snoop through his room to see what he was hiding, and they could call it even.

* * *

**A/n: **There will be a longer talk about Draco's drug use between Draco and Hermione either next chapter or in chapter 13. Things are picking up now I believe. Don't forget, you can like my facebook page and see the full banner for this and other stories :)

You can also check out my new one-shot Draco/Charlie story, "The Love and Snark of Draco Malfoy". Go ahead and leave a review! They've been helping tremendously!


	12. Oh The Confusions

**A/n:** Thanks to my beta **divina126**! Not yet edited.

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**12. Oh the Confusions **

Malfoy's room was surprisingly tidy. Although he was a Slytherin, often impeccably dressed, she expected to happen across a dirty room with items strewn about, much like how Ron's room often looked when she visited the Burrow over vacations. But this room was just as neat as hers. How weird.

It made it harder to snoop. He kept everything tidy and might notice if something was left in the wrong place. She'd opted to change into a tank top and shorts while the prick was gone, too warm in the stuffy dorm. She could open a window, but the air was rather bitter outside from the rain and would chill the entire place in a matter of minutes. No, wearing less clothing for the time being was far more convenient.

She'd also taken a quick shower and tied her hair back, which meant that the scars along her skin were quite obvious. She was certainly an ugly sight just then, but didn't care. She had no one to look nice for anyway. Besides, currently the most awful thing in her eyes were the bruises on each of her shoulder-blades from being shoved into the wall by Malfoy. They weren't dark, but they were there nonetheless. Hermione still resented him for that.

Searching through his bedside table and dresser did nothing and she moved onto the closet. When nothing turned up there, in the desk, or anywhere else either she got frustrated and sat on the bed, checking her time. She should have roughly twenty minutes still, but she was making no progress. Where the hell did that boy hide his drugs?

He had to be on something, she knew that much. There was no doubt in her mind there.

Wiggling on the bed she realized that one spot was rather lumpy, and glanced that direction. Sitting directly on the uncomfortable patch, her mind began working overtime. No, he wouldn't…

Hopping off the bed she pushed the mattress aside and reached under. No way! Malfoy has such a cliché hiding spot, placing his drugs under his bed. It was so ridiculously muggle she almost couldn't believe it. Was this the best he could do? Apparently, it didn't take much to be Head Boy.

Searching for a label, she discovered there wasn't one. So that's hint number one that something was off. Hint number two came when she opened the container and discovered it scentless. Well, he definitely wasn't going to _try _any. No, that would be stupid. But what should she do with her find?

Confronting him seemed like the most obvious answer, but then she would have to admit to snooping in his room. Then again, what could he say? She still had a _Professor _ranking in many cases, and felt that she should be able to pull that card out and use it in this situation. He was doing drugs for one reason or another, but no matter his excuse, this wasn't healthy. She had personally felt how addicted he was to this, and didn't feel comfortable letting it go on. The longing the other night to take something to cure her pain was too much, and she couldn't imagine letting _anyone _carry on this way, let alone someone who was now linked to her. They'd continue to feel each-others pains and apparently, their emotions until something was done, and Hermione's good nature told her it was time to intervene and try to help the prick. She just doubted that he would be all that accepting of her help.

She heard the common room door open and panicked. Great, he was going to catch her in the act, and that was frightening. The last thing she needed was to try and explain this to anyone, let alone the guy who slammed her into a wall earlier. A confrontation right now wouldn't go well.

But they both had their wands on them this time, she was sure. There would technically be no need for a physical confrontation, just an uncomfortable, verbal one. She wasn't sure that was any better. Glancing at the clock she realized it had only been ten minutes. Oh wow, she guessed wrong.

He was to the door of his bedroom before she'd really decided how to handle things, staring at her with large eyes. Hermione tried to explain herself but ended up just shutting her mouth and looking away in the end, uncertain what exactly she wanted to say. He looked livid.

"Didn't we just get done having a fight about you staying out of my room?" he hissed, balling up his hands. His voice had barely-controlled anger lingering inside of it, and she suspected it took some willpower on his part to not kill her right there.

"Malfoy-"

"Don't give me a fucking excuse," he snapped, taking a step towards her. For her own personally safety she took one back. "Just tell me what the fuck gives you the right to be in here."

"Malfoy," she said again, her tone firmer this time. "Don't come any closer. We don't want a repeat of last time."

That stopped him where he was, but he didn't drop his angry attitude. She could see his eyes scanning over her body, specifically her face, staring at the unhidden scars that marred her features. She felt naked beneath his gaze as he studied her, looking at the awful mess her face had become. And sadly, this was partially his fault. It was so unfair that she was the only one suffering! Attempting to focus back on the situation, she zoned back into reality just in time to hear him speak.

"Tell me what you're doing in here, other than sticking your nose where it doesn't belong."

"I thought-"

"This is _my_ business, _not_ yours," the blonde reminded, clenching and unclenching his hands. Just because we're linked or whatever doesn't give you the right to pry whenever you chose. I have parts of my life that don't involve you, and for fuck's sake Granger, we've barely been at this a week. If you're invading my personal space I can't fucking wait to see how you are after a couple months, if this takes that long."

She was actually pleasantly surprised he hadn't drawn his wand, thrown something, or tried to kill her in any way quite yet. He was quite composed actually compared to how angry he probably was, and she wondered why he bothered to restrain himself so. Was he really feeling that awful about earlier?

"Malfoy, I know for a fact that you're on drugs," she said, cutting right to the point. "It's not too hard to figure out at this point. It's disappointing, for I never thought you'd lower yourself to that, but it's apparently the reality of things. This is really unhealthy, and you need to get off of it-"

"You sound just like Blaise," he snapped, rolling his eyes. She didn't understand why he sounded so completely unhappy about that.

"Then Blaise knows this is serious too," she said, her eyes suddenly widening. "Oh! I bet Parkinson is on this too! That's why she was acting so weird, but you seemed so unconcerned-"

"Yes, she's on it," Draco said, cutting her off. "I'm so glad you put that puzzle together. Now if you don't mind, get out of my room and hand back my potion, will you? You have no right to be in here."

"I'm a Professor!" she cried, eyebrows shooting up. "I have every right-"

"To yell at children in your own bloody classroom," he said, rolling his eyes. "Unfortunately for you people are wary about you now. The Headmistress pulled me aside at dinner and asked about you. Your stunt in that classroom drew a lot of attention from the entire school, and the fact that you haven't been to any of the meals lately doesn't go unnoticed. People are asking about you, you know. You're fucking friends even came to bother me during my meal to inquire about you. They thought I'd done something awful to you."

"You did," she pouted, looking away. She wasn't quite as mad at Malfoy now as she'd been earlier, but her thoughts were traveling other places. Of course her friends were going to be worried! McGonagall would wonder if the stress of being a teacher and student at the same time was getting to her, and would more than likely request to see her sometime tomorrow. Hermione dreaded having that happen, but knew it would be unavoidable. How else was she supposed to continue being a teacher? The Headmistress would pull her position in a moment if she thought it was detrimental to her grades.

But it wasn't. There were a lot of other things leading to her stress levels though, like bleeding, the curse, and Malfoy's drug obsession. She currently had too much on her plate.

Hermione sat on the bed, rubbing her eyes. If Malfoy had something to say about that he didn't voice it, and allowed her to rub her eyes, setting the bottle aside. "How worried are they?"

"Merlin Granger, I don't know. You're friends almost started a fight with me when I wouldn't give them answers in the Great Hall, and when I told them you had the room warded they actually left and tried to come up here. Don't look at me like that, _I_ warded it before leaving in case you didn't feel up to it. I might be wrong, but you didn't seem up to talking to anyone when I felt."

She didn't argue against that, and he took that as a yes. "I'll have to deal with them tomorrow."

"You'll have to deal with everyone tomorrow! You're students, the Old Bat, those morons you call friends-"

"They _are_ my friends," she interjected, rolling her eyes. "Merlin Malfoy, I'm too tired for all of these arguments."

"Splendid! Then return my potion, and you can be on your way."

Immediately, she clutched the bottle to her chest. "Are you batty? I'm not leaving this here with you! You'll take more of it."

His eyes narrowed. "As you've clearly stated Granger, I'm on drugs. You don't just tear drugs away from a person cold turkey; that makes them do crazy things! Merlin woman, don't you know anything?!"

He was right, of course. She knew that it took time to get off of addictions, but she had no knowledge whatsoever about magical drugs. Certainly they had to work at least a bit differently from regular muggle drugs, right? Sighing, she rubbed her temples. If she couldn't steal the bottle away, then what the hell was she supposed to do? He couldn't just take _more_ of it! That wouldn't do him any good.

"Do you want to quit?" she asked at length, folding her arms. His eyebrows shot up.

"Um, no Granger, I don't. And you of all people aren't going to make me."

"Well you can't just stay on it! Do you know how awful this is for you!? What is it anyway… something like Meth or Heroine?" Okay, so her knowledge on drugs was limited. She'd never really been affiliated with that side of life.

"Why do you care?"

"Because I'm curious! If I'm going to help you get off of this I'd at least like to know what I'm dealing with."

He laughed outright. "You think you're going to get me off of them by _helping_? Oh Granger, you can be humorous at times!"

"I'm not joking," she snapped, "I am going to help you quit."

"I doubt that," he continued, shaking his head. "Blaise can't even do that, and he's my best mate. We don't even like one another. There's no way you're going to get me to quit."

"Then you're going to end up just like Parkinson," she snapped, sounding more like Blaise than she knew. "Drugs aren't healthy Malfoy, no matter your reason for taking them. I don't really care about your reasoning, but I do care about getting you off of them. So long as we're connected, I can feel the pain of taking them too. Addiction is not a pleasant feeling, especially when I'm not even addicted to the substance. It's tedious, painful, and unhealthy."

"Well, ignore the feeling next time."

"That's hard to do when it wakes me up in the middle of the night."

He shrugged. "That's really no my problem."

He would be difficult to work with, that much was obvious. His eyes looked downward briefly towards her feet, and she knew he was looking at the anklet that connected them. His was currently hidden by his trousers, and though she couldn't see it she knew it was still there.

Maybe if she dropped the topic for the night, they could part ways and sleep easily. That would also give her time to think of how to handle this without pulling the teacher card and potentially getting him in trouble. If he got in trouble with McGonagall then he could possibly be expelled for having illegal substances within the building, and then she would probably die from the bloody curse. She would bleed out because she couldn't complete the task given to them, and that wasn't fair at all.

An idea clicked into her mind, and she thought that it sounded perfect. But it would also mean that she was waiting for tomorrow to enact it. Smiling sweetly at him, she set to bottle down on the table. This would also completely throw him off his rocker, and make him uncertain about the entire situation. She liked thinking that he could be left uncertain. In this current situation, she needed the upper hand if she wanted to help him out at all.

She wouldn't have a drugged-over dorm mate.

"Fine Malfoy, handle it on your own," she said, throwing as much agitation into her voice as she could. "I won't try to help you." Moving away from the bed she wandered back towards the doorway, watching the startled expression on his face. Perfect, he had no idea what was going on.

She was just past him when he suddenly grabbed her arm, but his grip was so loose and soft it took her a moment to realize why she couldn't move forward. Turning around, she noted a pained expression in his eyes, but it disappeared as quickly as she noticed it. Weird.

He let go of her wrist now that she was looking at him. "You bruised."

It took another moment for her to realize what he was talking about. "Oh, yeah, I did. It happens."

He didn't look pleased. "I didn't intend for that to happen Granger, I hope you know that. I wasn't meaning to… bruise you."

"Well, it happened," she replied with a shrug, feeling no desire to comfort him. It wasn't her fault that he lost his temper. Yet another side effect to the drugs she was sure. "It's no different than the marks on my face. Every day that we sit around and do nothing about the task given to us, I receive another scar. And we're not doing anything to stop that from happening."

Another expression passed over his face, but she couldn't quite distinguish what it was. "I haven't really done anything with the curse since receiving the book."

"I have. I've been trying to decode the task."

"I haven't even done that," he said, glancing away. She rolled her eyes.

"So I noticed," she replied bitterly.

There was a moment's pause before he spoke. "Perhaps tomorrow we can do some research together- or tonight even, there's still time. We can go and look over the note again."

"Really?" Her eyebrows shot up, having expected that he would hide away from her as soon as possible. She didn't think he would want to spend any more time with her than necessary. Yet here he was, offering to hang around her even longer to help do some research.

He must be feeling awful guilty about something, but whether it was the bruises, scars, or something else entirely, she didn't know.

"Very well," Hermione said after a moment, leaning away awkwardly, "I'll go grab it then."

"Okay. I'll meet you in the common room."

"Right," she replied, leaving quickly. His emotions changed rather quickly, and she didn't like that one bit. Was it another effect of the drugs, or was Malfoy actually trying to be genuinely helpful? Honestly, she wasn't sure which it was.

* * *

"I think I figured out line two," she said about twenty minutes later. She took longer than needed getting the note, stopping off to owl her friends that she was alright and would talk to them at breakfast the following morning. She used the excuse that she needed to finish their potions assignment, which was technically true. They just wouldn't be doing anything with it until tomorrow night, the day before it was due. Getting things done so late really needed to stop. She wasn't okay with waiting so long.

But currently she had other things to focus on, like the note she was currently looking over with Malfoy.

"And what do you think it's about?"

"It wants us to get over our past complications," she said, eyeing him. "_'Release past affiliations to step into the light'_? That's all that it could mean!"

"Fair enough," he replied, staring at the letter. It sat between them on the table, the both of them trying to keep as much space as possible between their bodies. It was hard to do though when the print was small. "What about the rest of it though, like lines one and three surrounding it? _'With great sacrifice comes great rewards/ Release past affiliations to step into the light/ When joined similarities shall shine through the differences'_?"

"Line three might mean that it wants us to see the good in each other," she offered, glancing his way. "We obviously have our differences, but we've never looked at the similarities. Maybe if we do we'll understand the rest of the note better."

"Right," he grumbled, rolling his eyes. "This should be hilarious. Favorite colour then, Granger?"

Hermione frowned. "I don't think that's what it means. It wouldn't be miniscule similarities like that, but something on a much granger scale. Our ambitions, goals, viewpoints on certain things, things like that I suppose."

"Whoa, that's way too much to talk about this late at night."

"It's eight."

"And it's been a troublesome day," he said. "We can't go all philosophical and deep and emotional when we just got done screaming at each other."

"Fine then, I guess we just won't get anywhere with this, Malfoy."

"I didn't say that," he corrected, shaking a finger at me. "I just think that's something to try when we're both in better moods. Here, read the next few lines."

_And balance there will be_

_Failure is not an option_

_Lest one suffers from loss_

_And the other joins us_

"I don't see how I'm suffering if I don't even like you," the blonde grumbled. "If you died wouldn't you just be out of my hair?"

"Oh trust me Malfoy, I would certainly make you suffer. But we already know what all that means. It's just the determinate for what happens if we don't succeed."

"Right, but I don't think that has anything to do with balance."

"I'm pretty sure that refers to the line above about similarities and differences. Whenever you decide to be less stubborn, we can figure out what our similarities are alongside the differences, and we might understand each other better. Then our mutual relationship would be… balanced?"

"Sounds like a good solution to me. But once again Granger, I'm not having a deep talk with you tonight. Next set of lines?"

"Oh sure, why don't you read them to us then?"

He rolled his eyes. "Whatever."

_But alas, do not be quick, foes hide amidst the innocent_

_All is not balanced; all is not well, within the walls of Hogwarts_

_Uncover the deceit, uncover the lies_

_See the enemies with your own eyes_

"I'm pretty sure she just spewed that part out her arse," he grumbled, sitting back. "It makes no sense."

"Balanced," Hermione muttered, picking up the paper. "Maybe the line about balance above doesn't indicate to our relationship, but something on a much grander scale. Like the school, maybe?"

"This isn't more House-Unity bullshit, is it?"

She shrugged. "I don't know. But apparently, someone isn't being truthful about themselves."

"Please, that could be either one of us."

"I don't think it's about us though. I think that has to do with someone else in the school."

"Like the potions teacher?" Draco grumbled, crossing his arms. "He could totally be an enemy of mine."

She got the feeling that there was a lot more to that sentence than he was letting on, but she didn't dig further for the time being. "What about the new Transfiguration teacher, Miss Holladay? She seems kind of sketchy."

"The hot lady who never wears an appropriate shirt? Granger, I think you're leaning towards jealousy, not pure evil. That woman doesn't have a deceitful bone in her body."

"I heard a rumor yesterday that she tired seducing one of the eighth years."

"It's totally legal," the blonde replied, winking. "We're all of age now. If the slutty teacher wants to hit on students, I doubt any guy in the building is going to protest. There's only one reason people listen to her talking."

"I doubt the majority of you even listen," Hermione muttered, picking up on what he met immediately. Did he always have to be crude?

"All I'm saying is that she doesn't seem to have dark intentions."

"Except sleeping with her student's right?"

"Depends on how you look at it."

"Right," she grumbled, staring at the note again. "Well whoever it is, they're lying."

"Sounds like Skillman," Draco replied, again going back to the potion teacher. "He lied about having our first assignment in one of his books, saying we didn't credit the original caster, thinking that we didn't do proper research, and the section was actually just placed in there. He's shady."

She couldn't argue against that. "Yes, he's a bit shady."

"Exactly! There you are, we have our man."

"That doesn't mean it's only teachers who are suspects," she reminded, arching an eyebrow. "It could be a student too, or even more than one person."

"So we've potentially narrowed it down to… no one?"

"No, we would need to know more. We can make a million guesses, but it's not going to get us anywhere."

He shrugged. "What about Barlott? Our Departments teacher is a bit weird."

"Now you're just making things up! Departments is one of the better classes this year!"

"Whatever you say Granger, but it's not my cup of tea."

"I don't really think anything is your cup of tea Malfoy."

"Do you want to read the rest of the note aloud?"

"Oh sure, why the hell not?"

_Keep the school clean, keep it pure_

_Do not let dark fiends poison your air_

_Trust is silly, trust is faulty_

_Base this off your opinion already_

_Secrets aside, souls open_

_And opportunity will arise to save someone broken_

_Carry your pains, carry your cries_

_Lest this be your last goodbye_

"Base this off your opinion already hmm?" Draco said when she finished. "Well, sounds like Skillman is it then!"

"Again Malfoy, you're only focused on one person."

"Well, that person is beginning to look like a pretty good suspect."

"Fine, you want to create a list then? Mark Skillman down as someone to watch!"

"Actually, I think I will," he agreed, snapping his fingers. A quill and parchment flew to him, and in beautiful calligraphy he wrote out Skillman's name under the title _Threats._

"Add Holladay on there too."

"You're not serious, right?"

"Well, we can always just ignore that point, and start sharing…"

"Fine, fine, Holladay is on the list too."

"Brilliant." It was funny in a way that he was so against sharing that he'd write someone down that he didn't quite think was devious. But Hermione suspected he was simply steering away from his private life as much as possible. What kind of secrets did he have to hide, other than drugs?

"Did any other part of that make sense to you then, Granger?"

"Well, the part about trust is a bit odd," she admitted, eyeing the paper. "I think we're supposed to trust each other, else this will never work. So maybe we shouldn't trust someone else, since this is a fairly complicated idea since everyone is potentially a suspect."

"Yes but a suspect… to what?"

They both paused there, thinking the note over. "I… I don't know Malfoy. It doesn't hint towards anything, just to not trust and to know that something… bad is coming?"

"You don't sound certain Granger."

"Well, I'm not. Are you sure about something then, hmm?"

"Other than the fact that the _fiend_ is Skillman, no. You're guess is as good as mine."

"I'm glad you're giving everyone the benefit of the doubt," she muttered. "As for the secrets and souls part, once again, it wants us to share our secrets. That's apparently a pretty big part of this."

"And again Granger, I'm not doing that tonight. I barely do that in general, let alone with you."

"Trust me Malfoy, if it comes down to either my life or your secrets, you're going to share. I won't die because you're stubborn."

"Hey, I never said it would get that far."

"You make it sound like it will," she muttered, looking away. He was frustrating as usual.

"Granger, I might not like sharing, but I don't think I'd let you die over it." She glanced back in his direction. "I don't want you haunting me."

Of course, there was nothing actually serious about his comment. Would figure. "I see," she replied, sighing as she stood. "Well Malfoy, it seems that we're at a standstill until you stop being so bloody stubborn and decide to speak to me. Until then, it doesn't seem that we're going to get any further with this."

He could tell that she was frustrated with him, but decided to ignore the fact as he spoke again. "Not true Granger, we can still do some investigating. We need to find out who this so-called fiend is that we're going to apparently stop from doing something."

"Right," she agreed, "and just how do we do that?"

"Study the people around us of course!" She was already beginning to trek back towards her room, and he could tell that her interest on the subject was fading. Why though? Usually when the witch was frustrated she just got loud and ranted, but she never just turned away and dropped such an important conversation. Strange. "Tomorrow's Monday, so we can study a ton of people. But I won't see Skillman until Tuesday. He rarely shoes up to my study hall class."

"Then we'll observe him Tuesday."

"Right. Granger, are you-"

"Malfoy," she interjected, not caring to hear what he had to say just then, "I need to lie down. All of this is getting to me. Let's just call it a night, okay?"

"Aren't you the one who wanted to do this in the first place?"

"Yes," she remarked, pausing at the door to her room, "And it was a stupid idea at that!" She opened her door and slammed it shut again before he could reply. Well, she was hasty today.

For many minutes after she left he sat alone, contemplating things. He thought about the note, his drug of choice sitting in the bedroom, and Granger, who was now suddenly shunning him _after_ asking to do this note-research. She certainly did have flipping emotions those days.

Picking up the paper, he read it through once more. A line towards the end caught his eye, and he re-read it almost ten times, contemplating the meaning.

_And opportunity will arise to save someone broken_

Well, Merlin forbid, that couldn't be about him, could it? It could indicate that she would save him from drugs or something, but he didn't much like that idea. He really didn't need Granger to save him.

Nonetheless, that line remained stuck in his head the rest of the night.

* * *

The following morning Hermione barely made it into the Great Hall before being bombarded by a pair of redheads. Ron had her enveloped in a hug before she'd even made it to the Gryffindor table, and Ginny stood on her other side just as the ginger man released her, the younger woman searching her friends face. Harry stood to the other side of Ron, lost amongst all the red, studying her as well. They all looked quite concerned.

"Hermione, are you alright?" Ron asked, eyeing her. He pulled her into a second hug again before she could reply, and she felt the air being squished from her lungs. It was a rather suffocating feeling, and she had to hit the man's back to get him to let go a second time. He smiled sheepishly as he set her back down on the floor.

"We've been worried," Harry said, drawing her into a hug next. His hug wasn't as fierce and suffocating, but full of love and worry. She sent all three of them a smile as he released her too.

"Guys, I'm fine," she said, detaching herself from the two men. Ginny was next, and gave her quite possibly the most-suffocating hug she'd ever received, and once more she had to beat on someone's back to be allowed to breathe again. "Really!"

"We heard about what happened in the classroom," Harry said anxiously, the three Gryffindor's leading the Head Girl to a spot on the table that wasn't overcrowded yet. "We weren't allowed to go see you."

Hermione waved a hand. "Pompfrey's orders," she assured, smiling at the three. "I hit my head pretty hard."

Ginny glanced at her boyfriend, who glanced at the other ginger across from him. "Hermione," Ron said, resting a hand on top of hers, "You heard you fell pretty hard."

"Yeah, it wasn't very good-"

"And that Malfoy's the one who took you to the infirmary," he cut in, eyeing her. "He's also the one who apparently… watched you."

She felt her cheeks flush Of course her letters last night didn't satisfy their burning questions, and she'd only found the responses this morning after waking up. Deciding that she'd just answer what she could in the Great Hall, she'd come right downstairs. Maybe she should've responded to those owls after all.

"It wasn't my idea," she assured, looking at her three hurt friends. "I think it was McGonagall's."

"And you went along with it?" Ron asked, sounding quite surprised.

"Well... I guess. It was either that or I could hang out in the infirmary. I ended up going upstairs and falling asleep anyway so it's not like I would've gotten to speak to any of you anyway. I was out cold."

"You… fell asleep after hitting your head pretty hard on the floor?" Ginny asked, picking apart her story. Well, shit, the woman had a good point.

"They assured me that it was safe!" she said, giving them all a sheepish look. "I was checked out and everything and given the okay."

"You should've owled us," Harry interjected, looking hurt. "We could've come up and at least distracted you. You wouldn't have been so bored the whole time, and you wouldn't have had to have Malfoy watch you."

"Oh, he barely watched me," she said sheepishly, waving a hand. Immediately, three sets of eyebrows shot up.

"He told us he was instructed to make sure_ nothing _happened to you," Ron snapped, immediately searching for Malfoy's blonde head at the Slytherin table. "He lied! I'm so going to kick his arse now!"

"Ron, calm down," Hermione hissed, grabbing her friends arm. "Look, it's been a long weekend. I had to talk to McGonagall, who I actually need to speak to again sometime today, and I had schoolwork to catch up on. Plus I was recovering. Malfoy did what he had to, no surprise, and I ignored him the rest of the time. I was so set into getting back on track that I guess I forgot to… you know, owl you guys sooner?"

They still looked hurt despite her explanation, and they were all beginning to look suspicious. Hermione knew she was leaving out quite a bit of information, but she kind of had to. She wasn't ready to inform them about the issues she was handing just yet. Still though, her excuses were lousy and her story had holes, and she knew it. So did they, and her friends were obviously upset by the matter.

Hermione ate in silence, staring at her food. They were all so worried for her for one reason, when they should be worried for several others instead. But she hadn't told them about any of that yet, and didn't plan to if she was honest. She didn't want to trouble them with something she basically brought on herself. But that didn't mean it made this easier. She felt so awkward that morning sitting beside her friends.

And if she'd looked up she would've seen the blonde head from across the room, studying these strange interactions amongst the four friends.

* * *

The first class of the day was super awkward. The students looked up at her in shock, disgust and uncertainty as she entered the room just before the bell rang, taking a seat at her desk. They all actually sat down for once without question, waiting for an explanation to Friday, just like the rest of the school.

They may have been first years, but boy were they nosy.

She gave them the same half-arsed explanation she'd been giving to everyone that morning, telling them that they needed to get studying as soon as she finished. Once the majority of them had a book out on their desk, she turned and picked up the note addressed to her that she'd seen when she entered. It was written in a neat script, too neat for any of the first years to have written it. She wondered who had left it, and why those nosy brats hadn't taken it. It was surprising that it survived at all.

She opened it beneath her desk so the students wouldn't see, unfolding it quickly. Unfortunately she didn't like the letter inside.

_Miss Granger-_

_I hope you are feeling better after your rest this weekend. The students here have been quite worried about you. But you seem to be fine this morning, and I take ti that Draco did a fine job of taking care of you. I'm glad to see the two of you can withhold from fighting long enough to make sure you both survive the year. At least I won't have to worry about one of you dying this year._

It was so ironic that she wrote that, but the Headmistress didn't know about what was happening. Maybe Hermione should consider telling her at some point? It might actually be better in the end.

_You've drawn quite a lot of attention since Friday. It's nice to see you up and about again looking so healthy. Your friends must be pleased to see that you're better._

Oh she so wished that was true.

_But I think we need to discuss a few things. I've sent a letter to your teacher for second hour, so there's no need for you to rush to Arithmancy today. Please come up to my office one the hour is over. I'd love to chat with you._

_-Minerva_

Hermione did not feel at all excited for that talk. She might've dropped her head to the desk if she weren't in front of a classroom of students. Groaning quietly, she wondered why this had to happen to her. Whatever this conversation was about, she got the feeling that she wouldn't like it too much. All the Headmaster's and Mistress' of Hogwarts seemed to have a way of reading people that no one else did.

And currently, Hermione really didn't want to be read.

* * *

**A/n:** It's up a day early, so I hope you enjoy! It was fun to write, and I hope you guys like the chapter. I don't know if I'll actually do a scene with Hermione and McGonagall talking or just summarize it, so we'll see ;)

This is my last update before college, so I wanted to get it up when I could! Please leave a comment if you could :D


	13. Notes and Busts

**A/n:** Thanks to my beta **divina126**! **Not yet edited.

* * *

**13. Notes and Busts**

Hermione felt drained later after her talk with the Headmistress. Of course the woman was concerned about her wellbeing, but that didn't make the conversation any less strange. The fact that Minerva held off asking questions until she actually returned to classes was interesting. When the Head Girl passes out randomly in class, usually people jump the gun and look for answers immediately.

Perhaps that's why she waited. She wanted Hermione to have some time to calm down and just relax before she really started pestering her with questions.

Nonetheless, that didn't mean that she was completely focused on her conversation with the Headmistress while she was up in her office. She acutally got quite distracted while up there, becoming quite focused on an interested bracelet dangling off of the edge of a chair to the right. On closer inspection, she realized that it was the _same_ sort of anklet that she and Draco currently had magically enchanted around them.

When asked about it, the Headmistress told her that it was a wonderfully striking tale. But as soon as Hermione asked where it came from, the woman smiled and shook her head, saying that telling her would ruin the entire experience.

She didn't like that answer, and it was still bothering her later when she sat in Holladay's class, somehow stuck beside Blaise Zabini. She'd been late and this happened to be the only place she could find to sit in, which was rather awful, since it was directly in front of Malfoy and Nott.

Hermione tried to ignore them all, as well as their inappropriate comments about Miss Holladay and her _bust_. At least Harry and Ron were less obnoxious when it came to such topics. The Slytherin's were just downright crude.

She tried asking Blaise about Pansy and how she was doing, and she's swear that he tried to kill her. His wand was drawn at the mere mention of the question, and she warned him to calm down before they drew attention. Malfoy and Nott actually assisted in that bit, much to her surprise. She suspected that they only interfered because of the drugs that were involved. Malfoy must've let his friends know that she knew something.

When Holladay dismissed everyone to do book work, she found a rather odd note appearing on her desk. Glancing around the room she didn't see anyone that looked suspicious and opened it up, reading its contents below her desk.

_Do you really think she's a suspect?_

The note was from Malfoy, obviously, and he had to be inferring to their teacher, who now sat at the front, leaning over a book while exposing far more than necessary. Hermione dropped her eyes immediately.

_She might as well be stripping in front of the class with the way she's moving. There's something off with her Malfoy, I know it. Stop trying to make me believe otherwise._

He picked up the note when she threw it back at him, responding immediately.

_I quite like the look, Granger. At least this is a teacher who has a body to flaunt. If you have the body of a whore you might as well flaunt it that way._

_Malfoy! That's not the kind of attitude to have! She should be embarrassed. I mean for Merlin's sake she teaches the first years as well!_

_I wish I had a teacher like her first year. I would've listened a whole lot more._

_Somehow I highly doubt that. I still say she's a suspect._

_You only call her a suspect because you're jealous that you don't look like that, even when you're younger than she is. _

_Merlin help me! I'm glad I don't look like that. I'd rather be admired for my brains than ogled at because you can practically see my nipples._

_Spoken like a true tight-arse. Congratulations Granger!_

She gripped the paper at that. She wasn't a tight arse, she just had some respect for herself. Miss Holladay just needed a pole and she would be right at home. But why would she ever try to debate this topic with Malfoy, who obviously had some major teenage hormones if he didn't se anything even marginally wrong with this.

Switching topics, she scribbled a reply._ I found something interesting in McGonagall's office._

_Switching topics so quickly, are we tight-arse?_

_I have a name, Ferret-boy, and unless you want me referring to you as that I suggest that you return to my last name._

_Well, you're no fun today, are you Granger? Fine, fine, what did you find in the old bat's office and what was a goody-two-shoes like you doing up there?_

_I was invited, if you must know. My fainting stint in my study hall class did cause an uproar, if you've already forgotten. She as questioning me, making sure I was alright and such._

_You didn't tell her about my secret, did you?_

She rolled her eyes and wrote a reply. _No Malfoy, not yet anyway. I'm going to try to help you before I report you._

_It's a drug Granger; nothing will help me._

_Well, you haven't let me try yet. I haven't been dubbed the brightest witch of our age for nothing._

_Whatever you say. So what interesting thing did you find up there? __A picture from her youth__? Never mind, forget I even wrote that._

_No Malfoy there's nothing like that up there._

_Then what? I do have work to do._

_The both of us finished over ten minutes ago. We have nothing else to do but waste time until class is over._

_Fine. What was it?_

_She had an anklet just like ours hanging off of a chair. Hell, it looked almost exactly the same as the one I'm stuck with!_

_Really, Granger? Well, alright, that is kind of interesting. Did you ask her about it?_

_I tried but she didn't really give me any sort of answer. In fact she said telling me about it would ruin the entire experience. I don't really like that answer._

_Bloody hell I don't either! Does she know something about that ghost you conjured then?_

_I don't know, I didn't ask. She was very unwilling to say anything on the subject._

_So after this class we're in agreement that we'll go upstairs an ambush the old bat until she answers us?_

_Malfoy, we're not harassing the Headmistress. If she won't tell us something then there's very little we can do. Unless it's life threatening no one can really force the Headmistress of the school to do anything, except the Minister and a few of his executives. I don't think she's going to help out at all on this matter._

_Yes, I suppose that's true. By the way, I think Blaise has been reading this entire thing._

She covered the note with her arm immediately, eyeing the man beside her. He didn't seem to be looking her direction, but that didn't mean he wasn't being sneaky about things when she didn't pay attention. Before she could do anything the bell rang, dismissing the class.

"Turn in your work in the basket by the door!" Holladay called, walking with the students towards the back of the room. Some of the guys sent her some very flirtatious smiles, but Hermione ignored them as she pushed through everyone to get out as fast as possible, tucking the note into her pocket.

"Exchanging love letters were you?" Nott asked when they got outside, wrapping a hand around her arm. Blaise and Malfoy walked up almost immediately at that, eyeing their friend.

"You still haven't dropped this?" Malfoy said with a sigh, looking at his friend tiredly.

"Well, there's very few reasons why you would trade notes back and forth with the Mudblood unless their love letters," Nott spat, eyeing Blaise as Hermione pulled her arm away. "Don't you agree Blaise?"

He looked at the three as Harry and Ron made their way over, protective instincts kicking in. "I don't know Theo, I didn't really get to read any of it. It seems-"

"Don't side with Draco!" Theo hissed, getting in his friends face. "I think he's secretly having an affair with the Mudblood!"

"Nott-"

"I didn't-"

She was cut off as Malfoy shoved Theo back into the wall, cocking an eyebrow. "You certainly like to guess big over something you don't understand, don't you?"

"I'm going off of what I saw."

"Well, you didn't actually read anything," the blonde continued, ignoring the looks Ron and Harry sent his way as they reached Hermione, attempting to pull her back. She wouldn't budge, too intruiged over what he might actually say in her defense. "We're the Heads, we could be talking about the patrol schedule that's due tonight for all you know."

"Defensive, aren't we?" Nott snapped, the growing crowd watching the six. "All because I took a guess towards what the two of you were doing!"

"Fine, I'll show you," he replied simply, dropping the man. Theo reached up and rubbed his neck, which was sore from where the collar of his shirt came up and dug into his neck. His shoulders hurt worse.

"Hermione, what's going on?" Ron asked, poking his friend. She shrugged him off, too busy watching the blonde in front of her. Just what did he think he was doing?

"Can I have that paper Granger?" Draco asked smoothly, as though this entire experience hadn't exploded into an unneeded show for their audience. Really, picking up Nott by his shoulders and shoving him into a wall seemed a bit drastic. Hermione could've handled herself, if Malfoy hadn't butted in first.

She wasn't exactly sure what he planned to do, but handed over the paper nonetheless, watching him closely. His lips didn't move as he unfolded the paper, the same one they'd been writing upon. She knew Blaise saw her tuck it away in her coat, and worried what would happen if he jumped in and said that it wasn't the same note from earlier.

Now she just dreaded what would happen if Theo tried to read the letter.

"See," Draco said, handing the paper to his friend. The man took it, screwing up his face as he looked at it. Standing on tiptoe, she was able to see it as well. She was just surprised that it really was a list of the patrol schedule, when she knew for a fact that it was a note talking about Holladay and their anklets less than twenty seconds before.

"That's not what it looked like," Nott grumbled, shoving it back to Malfoy, who in turn handed it back to Hermione.

"Doubting me now?" the blonde asked, though there was a warning in his tone. Obviously, Draco didn't want to continue playing this game, and Hermione suspected it was because he couldn't replicate that trick again. Tucking the paper down deep into one of her pockets, she watched the Slytherin's.

"No," Nott replied, shoving past his friend. The crowd parted as he took off, leaving the other five behind. There was a brief pause before anything else happened.

"Let's go back to the common room," Blaise said, as he and Draco took off in the other direction. "I think you need to cool down."

Hermione watched, rooted in place as the other two took off and the crowd began to disperse. A hand came to rest on her shoulder and she glanced back to see who it was.

"Is everything alright Hermione?" Ron asked again, concern etched in his face.

"Yeah, what was that all about?" Harry chimed in, slinging an arm around her shoulders. It felt like a brotherly gesture, but Hermione knew it was secretly a sign of protection. Harry and Ron were quite defensive about her at the best of times.

She shook her head as they wandered down the hall, worrying her lip. "I don't exactly know," she admitted, remaining sandwiched between them.

But hell, she planned to find out.

* * *

It was Monday night, which meant that they hadn't had potions that day, which meant that they couldn't argue about whether or not Skillman was a danger after their debate in Holladay's transfiguration class.

That also meant that they had a potion due tomorrow, one which they'd done little over.

"If we stopped delaying things we wouldn't be crunched for time," she scolded as she continued to write up things as Draco made their potion. It was simple this time around, so hopefully the liar of a teacher wouldn't accuse them of plagiarizing again.

"We'll be fine," he snapped, waving a hand as they worked. She knew he was pretending to be so focused on their work so he could avoid speaking, but she wasn't falling for that.

"So why did you get so defensive earlier?" she asked, sitting forward as she caught him off guard.

"I wasn't defensive," he snapped, continuing to work. "I was merely getting a point across."

"That you need to shove your friends into the wall to prove a simple point?"

"That I'm not bloody in love with you!" Malfoy snapped, setting the ingredients down. "I don't need that rumor on top of my daily dramas already."

"I'm sorry I would be such a trouble," she snapped, rolling her eyes. "Merlin, you're difficult to speak with tonight."

"I thought you wanted to get this potion done."

"I do, but we can talk while we work."

"No, we can't." He grabbed the ingredients again, continuing to work. "I prefer silence."

"Usually, I do too. But today I'm up for a bit of chatter."

"Well, go talk to one of your bloody Gryffindor friends or something! I'm not talking about this!" He slammed the potions down, the glass of one breaking as it hit the table and he snapped his hand away, glass and liquid falling down on the carpet. Hermione rolled her eyes.

"See what that temper of yours has done now?"

"Yes, so fucking sorry about my temper," he spat, turning away. The prick was in his room and had his door locked before she could say anything else.

Hermione sat for several moments after his sudden departure, wondering what the hell was wrong with him. Weren't girls supposed to be more hormonal than boys? Well, he could prove her wrong as of right now. He was losing his mind by the looks of things.

And she really wondered what had gotten to him so much.

* * *

**A/n:** And here's a new chapter a day early! Keep those reviews up! :D They've been so helpful and fantastic. Sorry for the filler chapter, but hey, they happen. A lot more will happen in the long, upcoming chapter!


	14. Cry on Me

**A/n:** Here's chapter 2! Thanks to my beta **divina126**! **Not yet edited!

* * *

**14. Cry on Me**

Tuesday morning found them in the potions classroom again, their assignment sitting between the two Heads as they did their best to ignore each other. This morning hadn't gone swimmingly.

He was having issues with the drug he took, and Hermione knew it. A painful emotional connection woke them both late in the night; a dream of Malfoy's scaring him and confusing her. When she tried to get him to talk he shut her out, locked himself in the room and probably consumed more of the bloody potion.

She felt tingly the rest of the night and wondered what he had done. They didn't discuss it the following morning, and opted to ignore one another as class began.

"I'm going to come around the room and check your assignments," Skillman said, stating the obvious. Hermione fidgeted in her chair, wondering if there would be another confrontation. "Open your books and do the work from page 327 to twenty-nine. You may work with your partners."

The Heads decided to not do anything together, and were silent for the first several minutes. Eventually Hermione glanced up and started watching their Professor make his rounds, and couldn't help muttering to herself.

"It's got to be him."

"You're ever so confident about that now Granger," Malfoy muttered, continuing to work. "Why is that? You've been screaming that it's Holladay for a while now."

She turned and glanced his way. "Well, simple. He's another likely candidate, and I haven't completely dismissed the idea before."

Draco scoffed. "No, of course you haven't. So Granger, what do you think about him then?"

Turning to study their Professor once more, her nose crinkled up. "Have you ever noticed that he asks the same sort of questions all the time, from potion ingredients to outcomes? And it doesn't exactly sound like random questions either."

"Of course it's not, he has to address everyone the same."

"That's not what I mean Malfoy, listen."

"… and you didn't use any?"

"Um, no professor," Lavender said, shrugging. "It didn't do anything for the potion."

"I see. And the outcome?"

"It didn't do anything. We wrote up a paper."

"Very well." Skillman took the paper and added it to his growing collection, continuing on to the next table. Hermione turned and arched an eyebrow at Malfoy, as though this should mean something to him.

"So what? Lots of people have failed to create anything so far. This method of learning is completely ridiculous. We aren't future potion-makers, we're bloody students!"

"I know," she argued, resting an elbow on her desk, "But we both know something is off with him. He wouldn't have called us out on our potion last week if there wasn't something kooky with him, all over something he'd spelled into a book that didn't even belong. I swear, something isn't right with him."

"Oh trust me Granger, I know. The man's my blasted study hall teacher."

She turned and cocked an eyebrow at him. "Ah yes, I'd forgotten about that. Does he dislike you just as much in there?"

"Well, I dislike him just as much," Draco grunted, crossing his arms, "He's only there occasionally. When he fails to show up the class just leaves, if any of us actually bothered to show up to begin with."

"And he hasn't gotten in trouble for that at all?"

"How should I know?" he asked, glaring at her. "You're the one pretending to be a teacher. Go to a bloody staff meeting and let me know."

"We haven't had one of those yet, and don't have one until next week."

"Oh, good. You can do investigating then."

She rolled her eyes. "Well, that's not going to help us right now. I still say he wants something out of these potions."

"What would he want?"

The brunette shrugged. "I don't know, but it must be something good if he's making us all do these potions. I swear, this is not the traditional way of assigning anything."

"And how exactly do we prove that he's up to something, hmm?"

"We don't," Hermione replied, "Or at least, not yet. We'll have to do some more investigating."

"Granger, by the sound of things, we're never going to get anywhere."

* * *

"I think Nott hates me."

"Who, Theo? He just dislikes anyone who isn't Slytherin. You think I'm prejudice? No one's really experienced how awful Theo can be yet."

"So is that why he harassed me yesterday after class?"

"Probably Granger. He doesn't like me, but he likes you even less."

"Think he could be the foe mentioned in that note?"

"Don't be ridiculous. He's bigoted, not dangerous."

"I don't know Malfoy. He didn't seem too friendly to me."

"Well, that's because he doesn't like you."

They sat together in their last class of the day, Departments, discussing an assortment of things. Malfoy had subtly inclined with his head when she entered that they should sit together, and passing it off as Head Duties Hermione had wandered over to sit beside him. They received several strange looks.

He wanted to tell her that Skillman was in his study hall the period before, but the man looked tired and frightening- no frightened. He'd spent the entire time scouring through a small stack of books, ignoring everyone in the room. Though his behavior couldn't be marked as dangerous or anything silly, the blonde actually thought he should share his information with her.

And that's how their conversation started. Their teacher, Barlott, assigned them something at the beginning of class and left the students to work. They were both finished now, waiting for the period to be over.

"So his only reason for acting so anal yesterday was because he can't stand me?"

"I can't believe you just used the word anal. Yes Granger, he can't stand you, and consequently he thinks I should stay away from you. He thinks I'm tainting myself by befriending you."

"He thinks we're friends."

"More or less."

"Well, now he really is delusional. We're acquaintances at best."

"And that's pushing it."

"My thoughts exactly."

"So should I be worried that he's been glaring at me since I stepped into the room?"

Draco turned and glanced over his shoulder at Theo, who indeed was sending nasty looks her way. The blonde rolled his eyes and turned back to her. "He's harmless, trust me. He's gotten in trouble with the Ministry since the war ended and is in danger of going to Azkaban. He's not going to do something to land him a spot there. No reason to be scared."

She huffed. "I'm not scared of him. In fact if you didn't lose your temper yesterday I could've handled myself just fine."

"I did not lose my temper!" he hissed, eyebrows knitting together.

Suppressing a chuckle, she continued on, "Yes, you did. There was no reason to cause such a scene by lifting him up off the ground."

"It's Nott, Granger. The best way to shut him up is put him on spot."

"Oh, he doesn't like the spotlight like you do?" Hermione teased, smiling softly.

"Are you implying something?"

"I don't know, am I?"

"Yes, I quite think you are, and please don't. I am not an attention hog."

"Did you just say please?"

"Oh shut up!"

Hermione laughed and glanced away from him, surveying the room. Her eyes fell on Harry, Ron and a few of her other friends, all watching her with disapproving eyes. Of course she was going to get shit for this, especially if she was laughing with someone suspected to be her enemy. She looked away again, unable to hold their looks. They looked offended that she was sitting there with him.

It was a problem to handle at another time. She would have to tell her friends something later. She couldn't rightly tell them the truth, not yet anyway.

"Problem?"

She met his eyes, ignoring the slight grin on his face. "No why?"

"Because you just looked at your friends like you've been caught in the act of betrayal. Granger, you're of legal age. You can do what you please, including sitting next to me."

"I don't think the sitting is what's getting to them, so much as the laughter."

"It's not really my fault that you decided to do that."

She rolled her eyes. "Weren't you the one who just yesterday got all offended by what Nott had to say to you? You practically blew up at me while we were finishing our potions assignment."

"I didn't want them thinking I _love_ you Granger, seeing as I'm actually trying to get with someone. That would throw everything off."

Ignoring the fact that he'd just revealed something about his relationship status, she continued on, "But what about what we're doing right now? We're conversing perfectly well."

"As acquaintances, or the Heads," he reminded, sitting back in his chair. "Not as lovers."

"And the note from yesterday automatically pointed towards love."

"It could've."

"I see. Well, no problem there Malfoy, because I certainly don't love you."

"Oh, I know, but not everyone else does."

"Right," she muttered, placing her hands in her pockets, feeling something there. "Oh!"

"Hmm?"

"We have to go upstairs, right after this class."

"It's the last class of the bloody day. We have to go up before we go to the Great Hall for dinner in a bit."

She shook her head, fingering the object. "Not exactly."

"What do you mean?"

The bell rang then, signaling the end of class, and Barlott told everyone to turn their papers in in the basket at the back. Hermione gathered her things quickly, dragging Malfoy along as they left before most everyone else.

"What's the rush Granger?"

"There's something I want to give you, come on!"

She practically had to pull Malfoy along at the rate she was going, towing him behind her as she ran. He kept swearing, saying that they could indeed slow down, but of course, she wouldn't listen. When they finally got to the entrance to their common room he pulled away, glaring at her.

"We could've gone slower."

She rolled her eyes, walking in with the blonde on her heels. "Well, I wanted to get up here quickly."

"I didn't notice."

"Quit complaining and come sit down." She dropped her bag by the sofa, waiting patiently for her grumpy roommate to sit beside her, crossing his arms and pouting like a child. She suppressed a grin at his childlike behavior.

"So what's so bloody important that we couldn't walk up here like regular people?"

"This," she explained, briefly rummaging through her bag before pulling out a small vial. "I know it seems impossible, but late into the nights I've been doing some research, and I discovered this handy little thing. It's a potion I whipped up the other night while you were sleeping, and it's basically to help pull you off of drugs."

His eyebrows shot up and he pushed the item away, standing. "I'm not taking that. I'm quite comfortable with the way I am Granger, and I'd really appreciate it if you would stop trying to change me."

"Those drugs don't make you who you are," she said tersely, watching his movements, "They just change you for the worse. You're not going to lose yourself if you drop your habits, but you might slam a lot less people into walls."

Draco cringed at the memory, recalling her bruised back from when he pushed her into the brick wall, how her shoulder blades turned quite blue and unhappy. The woman was picking at sensitive topics and very well knew it. He suspected that she was doing so to guilt him, but it wasn't going to work.

"If I don't touch you, then there's no problem," he grunted, wandering towards his bedroom. She got up and cut him off, having prepared for his disagreement with the idea.

"Right now you think it's fine," she began, crossing her arms determinably, "But the longer you're hooked the worse you'll be. The potions drug properties will eat at you until you are no more. You're not in too deep yet Malfoy, you just need to get out of this habit."

"I don't see that happening," he said, pushing at her to move her from the door. She flattened against the wood, crossing her arms as she challenged him to touch her. He pulled away and took a step back, studying the situation.

He wouldn't hurt her again. Like it or not, he felt bad for what he did a few days ago and couldn't allow himself to possibly go through with it again. He stood quite still, waiting for her to get bored and give up. But she didn't relent, and they stood that way for several minutes, waiting for the other to move.

"What the fuck do I have to do to get you to leave me alone?"

She held out the vial. "Drink it- don't break it!" She moved her arm back when he tried to knock it out of her hand. "If you drink this I will leave you be for the night."

"I doubt that. You'd rather harass me."

"If you drink it before dinner it will be easier on your stomach," she continued, shaking it in front of him. "Food will help. This isn't going to hurt you- you're not in drug rehab."

"Not yet," he grunted.

"Just be glad you're not a muggle Malfoy. Their processes are a lot worse than what a wizard would go through."

"Everything is worse for muggles."

Hermione rolled her eyes, knowing that wasn't the best example to use on him. "Fine, I know you don't care about muggles, but please drink it. It's going to help."

"What do I get out of it?"

"You're going to feel better about yourself once you get off of them!"

He scoffed. "Try something else Granger. I'm not going to listen to something I don't believe."

The woman sighed, rubbing her head. "If you drink it, I'll forget that you ever slammed me into the wall."

Draco stiffened again, eyeing her with darkening eyes. She kept bringing that up, making him feel bad for losing control, and now she was offering to pretend like it never happened? He wasn't sure that was good trade, since it might be foolish to forget something so troublesome, but was more concerned about why she would offer it. Did she want to pretend that it didn't happen as well, and for what reason?

Without offering a word to her he snatched the vial out of her unsuspecting fingers and downed the contents. "This tastes like shit."

She stood blinking, completely surprised that he drank it at all. "Um… they usually don't taste good."

"I noticed. Can you leave me alone now?"

"Sure." She stepped out of his way and Malfoy disappeared into his room, returning to vial to her as he passed. She leaned back against the wall as the door shut, trying to piece things together in her mind.

She didn't understand him. But he took the first step to getting over his addiction for some reason, and she couldn't really argue with that. It was actually easier than she thought it would be.

But why?

* * *

"Why did you run off with Malfoy earlier?" Ron asked suspiciously later at dinner. Hermione swallowed the food in her mouth a bit hard, having anticipated this conversation.

"We left our potion simmering in the dorm and had to go check on it," she replied, thinking on spot. Harry slammed his fork down, staring at her.

"Bullshit."

"Excuse me?"

"Hermione, why are you lying?" Ron asked, setting down his food. "We only got assigned our potion projects two hours before that, and neither of you would've had the time to start. Why won't you just tell the truth?"

"I am telling the truth," she pressed, dropping her hands beneath the table so they could grip one another nervously. "We are the Heads, and we wanted to get it done quickly so that we won't be pushing it like we did last week. I gave him an earful over that."

Ginny rolled her eyes beside Harry, sipping her tea briefly. "Why won't you fess up to what's going on? If you're having a fling with Malfoy at least tell us- I want details."

Ron looked at his sister, horrified. "Ginny! That's disgusting! Don't even joke about it!"

"Well, it's a better explanation to why she ran off," the red-haired woman countered, looking at Hermione expectantly. "Come off it Hermione, you're totally up to something with him. The majority of the school is jealous that you're the one that shares a room with him. So did pressure kick in and you finally decided to go for it?"

"No I-"

"If you did then I think you're fucking brilliant!" She glanced over her shoulder, ignoring the disgusted looks that her brother and Harry were sending her way. She turned back wiggling her eyebrows. "He's kind of delicious."

"But he's evil!" Ron argued, shaking his head. "I can't believe what I'm hearing."

"Yes, and he's also bloody hot." The woman glanced at her friend, smirking. "So, am I right that something's up with you and Malfoy? Or is it something else Hermione?"

She looked between the three sitting around her, wondering why Ginny had to come up with that idea. The men looked disgusted, and although her friend's suggestion would explain her behavior Hermione would not be the cause of a ridiculous rumor like that. She just needed to think on her toes and come up with something sneaky.

"I… might have something for Malfoy," she said vaguely, rubbing the back of her neck. She wouldn't confirm that she had a crush or anything like that on him, since she didn't, but she would play off Ginny's idea. If she went with this they might be less likely to question where she is all the time. "He… said he was going upstairs before dinner as we were leaving and I joked and said I would race him. It was fun, though he did win. I get to do part of his transfiguration homework now."

Harry and Ron didn't argue this point, still too horrified that she was agreeing in any way shape or form with Ginny's ridiculous idea. She smiled as best as she could at her friends, taking a large swig of her drink. She wanted to tell them the truth, but it wasn't something they would believe, not yet anyway.

The rest of dinner passed easily, but she knew she was going to need to be careful from there on out. As she got more… confortable around Malfoy the less she kept her guard up, around everyone. They couldn't go drawing that kind of attention again, at least not at prior.

Now she feared that Ginny would try to drag her into a disturbing conversation about how hot Malfoy was. Yuck. She only spent a few minutes more there before excusing herself, glancing over to the Slytherin table as she left to discover that Malfoy was no longer there. He'd left sometime earlier, probably sneaking out while she had that awkward conversation with her friends.

She took a shortcut to the Heads common room today, deciding that although the hallways to get there would be darker and creepier she didn't want to deal with whoever she might end up running into along the traditional route. After pretending to be interested in Malfoy she needed to clear her head.

A few minutes passed before she started hearing voices, though she couldn't determine who it was and continued on her way. Probably a few first years scouting out the castle. She would put an end to that immediately. Rounding a corner she round arms locking around her body, one at her waist and the other over her mouth pulling her into a hidden alcove. She struggled against the hold of her captor.

"Granger, shh!"

She briefly stopped struggling as she realized it was Malfoy who had grabbed her. He removed his hand from her mouth and instead pressed a finger to her lips, signaling that she needed to be quiet. Hermione twisted her head up and looked at him, wondering what the hell he thought he was doing. Realizing that she had no intention to scream again, he let her go.

"What are you doing?" she breathed, glaring at him. "Why must we be quiet?"

"Shh! Come here, look."

Hermione thought he was acting a bit weird, but nonetheless followed the blonde as softly as possible down a hidden hallway, adjacent to the one she'd been walking in. They stopped by a space they could see through, peering out to see two people standing on the other side who didn't see them- and they were definitely _not_ first years.

"You're getting careless," Skillman scowled, crossing his arms in front of the woman. "This ridiculous get-up you keep wearing is offending. Put some damn clothes on!"

"Alfred I didn't come here with an intention of working with you!" Professor Holladay snapped, rolling her eyes. "I will look however I please since I came here by choice, not because I knew you would be here! You know, I was just going to go around being an everyday teacher before you stepped back into my life. Now, I barely get through an entire period without wondering what you'll want next."

"You want it too, Veronica," he snapped, grabbing her arm. "Else you wouldn't team up with me again."

"This is going to get us thrown in Azkaban!"

"Only if we're caught," he reminded, pulling the woman against him. Hermione crinkled her nose, not entirely sure she wanted to watch the pair. "And we won't be caught."

"Do you think the oracle was right?" the woman hissed, face inches from the potion professors. "About the Heads? Do you think they'll really discover it?"

Hermione and Draco exchanged a glance.

"If that girl doesn't die first, then yes. Otherwise he will never be the same. Once he's experienced dying he won't go after the treasure."

She felt her skin crawling as the teachers spoke, wondering why it all seemed so unsettling. What were they talking about, a treasure?

"So it's all a matter of time?"

"Yes. They have to find it before she dies, or he won't be motivated to do anything. And then, once those children have it, we can finish them off and get out of this place."

Holladay grinned, standing on her toes to kiss the man. "You're deliciously dark Alfred."

"I know darling," he whispered, fingering her spine. "They'll never see it coming. They don't know that they're playing our game yet."

"It's quite strange that things worked out the way they did," she hissed, pulling at his collar. "I never thought there would be others trying to find the same thing out."

"That's why I'm a potions teacher darling," Skillman replied, twirling a strand of her hair. "I knew someone would fall for that concoction I made up, those bullshit assignments, I just didn't think it would happen so soon. The Head girl actually created the perfect spell to call about a banshee! She made quick work of it all, and I called her out on it. Poor thing is still sore from that. And to think, she actually thought that I had the spell in a book!"

"It's easy to trick people."

"It is. It's only a matter of time now. And if they fail to move quickly enough, we might have to give them a nudge in the right direction; let them do the dirty work and we'll reap the benefits."

"That sounds marvelous," Holladay said, leaning in to kiss him. She didn't pull back after several moments, and when Skillman started pulling on her shirt Draco grabbed Hermione's wrist and pulled her further down the alcove until they came out in the opposite hall, away from the two professors.

Hermione slumped against the stone, thinking over what they just heard. "Is that why you don't like our potions teacher, because you knew he was up to something?"

He shook his head, running fingers down his jaw. "No, not before. But now that I know how deceitful he really is, I like him even less. Come on, we shouldn't hang around here with the likes of them so close by. After all, they don't much like us."

Agreeing, the pair got up and wasted no time returning to their dorm. Once inside Hermione sat down on the couch, replaying things in her head.

"How do they know that I'm possibly going to die?" she muttered, crossing her arms as she looked off at a distant wall. Draco cautiously took a seat beside her, keeping a fair amount of distance between them.

"They're obviously not here to teach."

"Obviously."

"Whatever they're here for, Skillman planned it from the start." Draco rubbed the bridge of his nose, wondering just what they were up against. Half a moment later, he was summoning the task assigned to them, the papers flying into his hand. He read through it once as the brunette beside him continued to look off blankly.

"Well, I can guarantee their a major part of this riddle."

"Read it," she muttered, not looking his way. He didn't glance up, starting from the spot that seemed to be about their deceitful professors:

_But alas, do not be quick, foes hide amongst the innocent_

_All is not balanced; all id not well within the walls of Hogwarts_

_Uncover the deceit, uncover the lies_

_See the enemies with your own eyes_

_Keep the school clean, keep it pure_

_Do not let dark fiends poison your air_

"The enemies are Skillman and Holladay," Hermione muttered, cutting him off halfway through. Her tone still held the same mundane aspect, like she was only half listening. He bent forward and noticed her cheeks were wet.

"Why are you crying?"

"I'm not," she said quickly, wiping her cheeks. "What do you think the rest of the note means?"

"Granger," he cautioned, setting the note aside. He gave her a gentle shove and she relaxed into the cushions of the sofa once more, instead of sitting so painfully upright. "Is this about your life again?"

"What do you mean?"

"Are you upset about being reminded that…"

"That I might die in the end?" she spat venomously, glancing his way. "Yes, it's a tad disheartening. And they could care less whether I live or die, so long as we find this fucking treasure first they are happy."

"Yes, treasure," he whispered, feeling overwhelmed. An hour ago his biggest problem was Granger possibly trying to give him another dose of that retched potion to get him off of drugs. It was foul, and he did not want to take another dose. He was content with his habit. And now he had to go worrying about bullshit like life and death again, reminding him of the big picture. Her life was still at stake.

He felt depressed, and realized it wasn't his emotion. Granger was upset, having been reminded that she would pay the ultimate price if they didn't start picking up the pace and actually achieve something. The cuts would continue to get worse until they left her dead, and he couldn't recall how long that took. He would have to look in the book later.

Glancing in her direction he sighed, looking at the crestfallen woman. She was quite headstrong and determined most of the time, but those rare times when she started unraveling were the times when he started wondering how long it would take for her to break. This was a big deal for her, more so than him. Hesitantly, he reached out and rested a hand on hers, causing the woman to jump. Her head snapped around and dewy brown eyes met steel silver orbs.

"What do you think you're doing?" she asked, watching him with guarded eyes. He shrugged, looking away from her.

"Thought you might like some comfort now that you're terrified. My mistake for thinking you'd accept any." He moved to stand, deciding that her bloody potion she gave him was having weird effects on his brain, when the woman surprised him. She scooted over and threw her arms around his neck, resting her head against the crook in his next. Caught off guard he froze, unprepared for the water works that followed.

"I don't want to die Draco."

He practically fell off the couch when she used his actual name. If one side of his body wasn't being weighed down by the Head Girl he probably would've, but she forced him to remain on the couch, tears dripping down onto his flesh. He awkwardly wrapped his arms around her, feeling her shake against him. He wasn't too good with comfort; grabbing her hand was one thing but hugging was another thing entirely.

"You're not going to."

"Yes I am!"

"You only die if we don't do what's expected of us," he muttered, resting his cheek on her head, "And we are doing what the banshee burdened us with. Trust me, you're not going to die."

She muttered something but he couldn't understand it, and Hermione didn't repeat it when he failed to respond. Instead they sat like that for what felt like hours, his hold gently relaxing into something comfortable as the minutes wore on. He was beginning to wonder when she planned to pull away when he heard her softly snore, and realized she'd fallen asleep.

Draco sat there for many minutes after his realization wondering when she got comfortable enough with him to fall asleep on him. Days before he slammed her into a wall and left her bruised, and now she was using him as a comfort blanket and soft pillow? Was she really that trusting, or was reality just crashing down on her and she could no longer hold herself together? He didn't think that she trusted him this much, just that she was getting weighed down as the days wore on. And now they were adding another problem to the bundle.

He twisted her around a few minutes later and picked her up bridal style, struggling to carry her. She wasn't heavy, but he felt drained and his body fought against the added weight. It didn't help when he had to open the door, struggling to turn the knob. But he got her into her room without slamming her head into anything, and set her down on the soft mattress. A brown spot beside her head caught his attention, and he realized it was the aftermath of dried blood. What an awful thing to sleep with on your sheets! He made a mental note to get her some stainless sheets.

Oddly, he found that it took quite some time to leave her room. Using his wand her removed her shoes and socks to make the girl more comfortable and pulled the blankets around her so she wouldn't be cold. He even lit a never-ending candle in case she needed to get up for some reason. Then, he spent time smoothing back her hair.

_What am I doing? She wouldn't want me in here while she's asleep._

_But then again, I never thought she'd let me see her in such a vulnerable state either. Pressure is getting to her, and she's going to unravel if we don't start doing something groundbreaking. She simply can't stand to die._

_But she's brave, that much is obvious. If it came down to it, I'm sure she would look death straight in the eye if she had to, and she would be brave when she died. It's just accepting that she might die right now that's getting to her._

He couldn't stay another moment in there, and quickly left her room, wandering into his own. For the first time since being assigned his new room he left the door cracked, feeling compelled to. He wouldn't let himself wonder about it, and instead changed and climbed into bed. A telltale book sat on his bedside table, one he'd ignored for over a week. He picked up the old fairytale book, realizing that it doesn't doing any good sitting there. And although he really didn't want to, Draco flipped the book open and scanned its contents.

_Have to complete… can't be left undone… death follows if cannot be completed… no way out… must follow note… nothing is orthodox… banshee can be questioned-_

Draco stopped there, looking over the passage again. He didn't remember that bit from his childhood, but then, that was a long time ago, before the war and so many deaths. He zoned in on the passage, reading it carefully.

_The call of a banshee through the Angel's Trumpet Draught is only possible if the people attempting the potion are destined for something. The spell will otherwise fall flat and prove useless. The banshee you receive will never return to you again, for they are merely messengers and not helpers. Many who do not understand the task set before them often times try speaking to oracles, trying to find answers to things that elude them. Even though oracles are masters of giving riddles in response to riddles, often times the oracle will aid you instead of confusing you, given that you've spoken to a banshee beforehand. The oracle will know if you have or not, and will also be aware that circumstances like these are often quite needed and very dangerous. A banshee does not just appear for anyone, and often times brings about a dangerous task that in the end will amount to a greater good. Although a task can often times seem impossible, there is always a way to figure it out. Discovering and completing what you need to before time runs out is exceptionally potent to saving the life of…_

He closed the book, already aware of where things were going. So oracles were suggested to visit if you couldn't figure out what was wrong? Well hell, he didn't know of an oracle anywhere nearby, but did know that a Hogsmeade weekend was approaching and the students were allowed to stay in the town over the weekend. Maybe, if things came to that, he could go on a little adventure.

So in reality, no, he couldn't ask the original spirit how to go about things. But maybe, if they truly couldn't figure things out, they could seek help from other places…

Maybe it would be a good idea to invite their friends into things and get some insight, but he wasn't so sure he liked the idea. They might call them completely crazy, mental, or worse, those bloody Gryffindor's might find a way to blame everything on him, which wouldn't be surprising. Perhaps they should hold out on telling anyone for now.

But with the prospect of knowing who they were up against, despite the fact that Holladay and Skillman didn't seem like a dangerous pair, had him on edge. Pieces of the puzzle were beginning to fall into place, and he really didn't want to figure things out too fast. Although it might help with saving Granger's life, he couldn't help but fearing what they were falling into. And he didn't want to fall too fast and end up unprepared.

* * *

**A/n:** There's the newest chapter! So someday, when I have time, I'm going to try and updates back to being in the middle of the week because having all of my stories updated on Saturday, Sunday and Monday is killer! Not to mention all of the competition stories too. I might just be in over my head darlings. Thoughts on the chapter? Keep those reviews up lovelies! They really do help :)


	15. A Deal with the Devil

**A/n**: Thanks to my beta **divina126**! **Not yet edited. Enjoy!

* * *

**15. A Deal with the Devil**

"Did I fall asleep on you last night?" she asked awkwardly the following morning, rubbing her head. "I don't remember being in bed the last time I was awake."

He rolled his eyes, watching Granger look anywhere else but him. She could've just not brought it up at all, but no, she had to go there and ask questions. He really hated when she did that.

"Yes, you did," he replied, deciding to make her as uncomfortable. "Cried yourself to sleep right on my shoulder."

"Maybe it's because it was your shoulder," she grumbled.

"Come off it Granger, we both know why you were crying," he replied, but there was a cocky arrogance in his words. "You wanted to sleep on me."

She threw a pillow at him. "Oh shut up Malfoy, that's not the reason either!"

He shrugged. "It could be. Why else would you have let it happen?"

"Because I was terrified and depressed?"

"And I was the most comforting thing at the time? Oh Granger, I never realized you trusted me!"

Hermione huffed, turning around to stalk out of the room. "You're impossible."

"You're intolerable," he called as she neared the door. "Just remember that!"

She slammed the door on her way out, ignoring his laughter. He was going to have way too much fun teasing her about that.

* * *

Wednesday didn't turn out as bad as it could've. Without Skillman around Hermione and Draco only had to focus on Holladay, who seemed very strange during lunch that day in the Great Hall; from across the room they eyed one another, both noticing how she kept looking around with a grin on her face, occasionally eyeing the brunette. It was very unsettling.

The prospect of an oracle had yet to escape Hermione's mind. They were both curious about the newfound information given to them by Skillman and Holladay, but had no idea where to go from there. An oracle was quite tricky business, and from what Hermione knew they were practically extinct in the modern world. However, considering that the task given to them said nothing whatsoever about an oracle, she had her doubts about how important finding one really was.

Instead, she was wondering about the enemies who supposedly hid in plain sight. Skillman and Holladay were the people they were meant to handle, she was sure of it, but this nonsense about treasure and everything else left her confused and uncertain about how treasure got into the mix. Was it gold, a historic item, or something completely different that perhaps hid in the Room of Requirement? She couldn't decide which theory to follow first.

Words from the conversation between Holladay and Skillman yesterday still lingered in her head. They had nothing to do with the oracle, but nonetheless caught her attention; they mentioned dying, and that if she died Draco would know what it was like to die.

He would feel it through those damn anklets, she was sure. He would feel what it was like to die, and she was certain that he would have a difficult time moving on from that. Anyone would really. So he had a lot to lose if they didn't succeed with their task, just like her.

Maybe he would be more prompted to help her now. Then again, Malfoy hadn't been as hard to handle recently. He was even being helpful in a sense.

She couldn't help hoping that it had something to do with the drug helper she gave him yesterday. Maybe it was having a nice affect. But she couldn't help doubting that just a bit, seeing as he'd only had one small dose and it had only been one day. It would probably need more time before anything would start happening.

When she left the Great Hall that morning to head towards her study hall class she was confronted by a Slytherin, but not the one she typically spoke with.

"You seem to be getting along nicely with Draco."

"We tolerate each other," Hermione replied, eyeing him suspiciously. "Can I help you with something Zabini?"

He cocked an eyebrow. "Actually, you can Granger. Could I have a word with you?"

"You've had many words with me already."

"In private?" he asked, and she narrowed her eyes. "Fine, in your study hall class? There's something I wanted to discuss with you, and we both know that the students aren't likely to start appearing for at least ten minutes."

She couldn't really fathom what he could want from her, but decided it couldn't hurt to speak to him in there. The door would be open anyway and people knew where she was going, so there was no harm in it. Zabini just never really spoke with her, so she didn't rightly know how to handle this.

When they got to the classroom and she was situation in her desk chair he stood in front of her, hands placed on the desk. Hermione waited patiently for the man to explain himself.

"It's about Draco."

"What about him?"

The man sighed, bringing a chair over with his hand so he wouldn't be forced to stand. "I'm worried."

"I think you're always worried. From what Malfoy bitches about he has a lot of problems and you seem to know about them all."

"I do."

"So which problem has you confronting me about him?"

"Oh, I'm sure you know by now Granger." She caught onto his meaning, knowing it couldn't be anything but the drugs, and nodded. He sighed, rubbing his temples. "My girlfriend is on them too."

"Why don't you threaten to break up with her or something to get her to stop? Plenty of couples try that method all the time." She was still confused why he chose to speak to her about this.

He frowned. "Granger, Pansy's not in the best mindset right now even despite the drugs. Doing something like that might push her over the edge and then she could accidently kill herself without even meaning to. I can't do something like that."

"You should speak to the Headmistress," she replied, eyes flashing. "That's quite serious Zabini. Something could happen at any time! Have you even thought about that?"

"More than I should," he muttered. "But I can't speak to her for the same reason that you have yet to say anything about Draco; I promised. And he told me something rather interesting about you."

"Oh?"

Blaise leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk. "You've been giving him something to get him off the drugs. I would like to know what it is."

"He told you that?" To say Hermione was surprised would be an understatement. She expected him to pretend it never happened and keep going in life, not stand around and actually tell someone about it. He probably did it while eating breakfast this morning or something, venting to his best friend. "I didn't expect that."

"Neither did I. Now, Granger, I'm insanely curious. I've been trying to find something to ease Pansy off of this for ages now. Where did you get it?"

"I made it," she said, crossing her arms. "I don't know how effective it will be though, considering that I don't even know anything about it really. He won't even tell me the name of it, which is probably a smart move on his part. It's made it extremely hard to figure out how to help."

"You don't even know the name?"

Hermione shook her head.

"It's called the Dragon's Brew," he continued, arching an eyebrow. "I'm surprised you didn't trick him into saying the name already or something."

"He's been quite protective over the matter. He tries to ignore it as much as possible."

"I would imagine. It's actually made here at school, you know?"

Her eyes flashed and in an instant she was out of her chair, palms flat against the desk. "No! He failed to mention that. Who does it? Who is-"

Blaise grabbed her arm and pulled her back down, subtly inclining his head to the open door, reminding her that it might be better to keep their voices down a bit. She nodded, understanding. "If I tell you, what do I get in return? There's no guaranteeing that you won't snitch or something."

"I'm not going to do something stupid Zabini, even if I think the person should be reported. That's completely illegal."

"Drugs are always illegal. Look, if I speak to her she might be willing to come and speak to you about the drug, okay? Insight from the person who makes it might help formulate a way to get Draco and Pansy off of it."

"Why would the person selling illegal drugs want to speak to me?" It didn't make sense to her, and she crossed her arms again as though waiting for an explanation.

"Because, there are two, and one isn't as invested as the other. One won't sell to her friends, and the other will. One simply doesn't want to hurt anyone, but desperately needs the money."

"So it's the typical reasoning behind selling illegal things?" Hermione rolled her eyes. "I should've known. But you've still neglected to tell me why you're willing to help Zabini. If you get this woman to speak to me, what's in it for you?"

"My payment is meager Granger," he replied with a wave of his hand. "All I want is some of the potion you make. I actually do want my girlfriend drug free, and if it could be done without causing a massive scandal and a trip to rehab I'd much prefer it. She's having a rough time as it is."

The brunette thought his offer over, chewing on her lip the entire time. "Okay, say that I do agree to this. I will make this potion and you will help me figure out exactly what I should be putting in to counter the drug. We both agree to avoid speaking to the Headmistress for the time being?"

"Of course."

"But if things escalate out of control, we will go to her to get help for Malfoy and your girlfriend, instead of trying to fix things ourselves? We shouldn't push past what we can accomplish."

"Yes. And we're going to keep this a secret." He met her eyes, making sure that they both understood his words. "Draco and Pansy will find out at some point, but until then we will not tell them about what we're planning?"

Nodding, she extended a hand, feeling like she was making a deal with the devil. "So we're in agreement."

"Yes, we are. Should I owl you or something for whenever she is available to meet with you, if she does indeed agree to go along with things."

"Please. Then we can also make sure that Malfoy's will you at the time and avoid having him figure out anything to early. Once he's finally off these drugs we might actually accomplish something."

Blaise paused, raising an eyebrow. "Accomplish something? What exactly do you mean?"

Realizing her mistake, Hermione waved a hand as though dismissing what she had just said. "Oh, nothing. I just mean our Head Duties. He's frightfully annoying lately."

"I see." He didn't seem to buy her lie, but left it be for the time being. "Well then Granger, I should be getting on my way. I can hear the first batch of your students entering now."

"Yes, they're filing in. You'll owl me when something is figured out?"

"Yes." He stood, nodded his head, and grinned at a couple of the young Slytherin's who smirked his way. "We'll be in touch."

"I know," she muttered, watching him leave. As her students started settling in, she sat back and sighed. Did she just make a good deal, one that might be beneficial later, or was she playing with fire now? She sat silently as the students made their way in and sat down, the bell ringing a few minutes later.

So long as Blaise kept his word, she could actually help Malfoy. And then he might really be able to help her get done with this bloody curse before she bled out one morning on her bed. She really didn't want to meet that untimely demise.

Standing, she addressed the class. "Good morning. I hope you have all brought something to do this morning, because if you try to throw around little paper creations again I will burn them just as I burnt the last ones. Remember, this is a study hall class, not joke school. Mr. Valdez, that isn't funny…"

* * *

Hermione was late to her Charms class. After Arrithmancy, Malfoy caught her and pulled her aside in the hallway, slipping into an abandoned classroom.

"Don't kick me!"

She whirled around, having been about to knee him until she noticed who it was. "Malfoy, don't do that to people! I thought I was getting attacked by Skillman or something."

He raised an eyebrow, looking slightly amused. "Because our potions teacher will sink so low as to steal students out of hallways. I think he's after treasure Granger, not-"

"Don't even finish that sentence," she muttered, shaking her head. "Please."

He shrugged. "Suit yourself."

"Do you mind telling me why you stole me out of the hallway? What if someone saw us?"

"No one saw Granger. I was looking straight through the wall into the hallway. No one was paying you any mind. I'm glad I covered your mouth though, since you almost screamed. Now I just have teeth marks on my skin."

"That's what you get," she replied, grinning. "This is the second time you've pulled me to the side in a hallway. Now, this time there's no conversation to ease drop on. What do you want?"

Draco's bemused expression fell a bit, turning into a look that was more painful than anything. "I think you're solution to my drug problem has some nasty side-effects."

"How so?"

"Well, now I want the drug more than usual. I left Ancient Ruins a bit early to go get some, and just ended up sitting in here for the past ten minutes. I knew you would have to pass by here from Charms, and decided to wait for you. I think you've made it worse."

"It's not my fault that I di-don't know what I'm dealing with!" she corrected quickly, placing her hands on her hips. "If you didn't suppress the information so much, I might've given you the right thing."

"Right, well, I think I'm going to go and take some more."

"You pulled me in here to tell me that?!"

He shrugged. "Well, not originally. I was just going to talk with you and get my mind off of things, for it was either you or Astoria, but now I'm thinking that I don't care about going along with your plan and I'm just going to go and take some more. When you actually make a potion that's helpful, I might try again."

She was a bit surprised that he mentioned trying to quit at all. Still though, that didn't mean that she wanted him to keep taking the drug. "Malfoy, don't you think you should just keep fighting the impulse? It could also be the fact that you haven't had any of the potion since yesterday. You're body probably isn't used to it."

"It's not," the blonde grumbled, "but that's not the point. Look, nice try and all Granger, but I give up for this round. I thought I'd say it now though when you need to be in class though, so you wouldn't follow me."

She swore as he bolts out the door, not even following him. Irritated with his lack of control after even one measly day, she just stood there and groaned. Well, now she would really need this dealers help if she ever planned to get him off his addiction. Sighing, she grabbed her bag and left as well, figuring that he already ran far and away.

Stepping out, she froze. Malfoy stood not four feet away conversing with Harry and Ron, who were probably picking a fight. As the door opens they all froze and turned to look at her, and the color drained from her face at the same time that it disappeared from Harry's and Ron's cheeks reddened.

From the stricken look on Malfoy's face, they probably saw him leave the room, and now she was following him out.

Oh shit. As if there weren't enough complications.

* * *

**A/n:** Thoughts? So, there's actually going to be a cool tie-in with the Greengrass sister that Hermione will end up talking to and something else that was already mentioned. It'll either be in the next chapter or the one after that! So… thoughts?


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